


Long May He Reign

by redlizard_rambles



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Angst, Children, F/F, F/M, Future, Happy Ending, Multi, Other, Royalty, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-05 17:40:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 32,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20492696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redlizard_rambles/pseuds/redlizard_rambles
Summary: What if Maric ignored Fiona's pleas and brought Alistair up in the Royal Palace at Denerim?In 9:10 Dragon, King Maric presented the baby Alistair to the people of Denerim and was met with celebration.In 9:25 Dragon, Prince Alistair met Livia Cousland at the wedding of Cailan and Anora and fell in love.In 9:30 Dragon, the Fifth Blight began and Alistair was crowned King.





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Setting the stage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a Beta! Updating the stuff! A great many thanks to wheresyourfire for helping me polish this story! Lots more to come!  
\--  
Mild edits

When Maric Theirin accepted he was to take up the mantle of king after his mother’s murder, he honestly thought Rowan would be ideal at his side. And she was; Rowan made a great queen, commanding yet compassionate, and the people were loyal. Yet Maric never forgot Katriel, the bard and spy meant to be his downfall. In a way she was. It was because of her he fell out of love with Rowan. Maybe that’s why she turned to Loghain for comfort. Maric doubted anything really happened between the two, and he wouldn’t have blamed them otherwise if that wasn’t the case. 

After Maric killed Katriel and found her letter, did he realize he had to choose country over self or else her death would have been in vain. But Maric was never really the same after that. He kept mulling over Flemeth’s warning,  _ “Keep him close, and he will betray you. Each time worse than the last.” _ Loghain had stoked Maric’s rage that in turn led to Katriel’s death, so Maric started to push Loghain away. 

When Rowan died, Maric withdrew even further into himself. It wasn’t fair to the very young Cailan, who essentially lost his mother and father in a few short weeks. Yet Maric didn’t know how to pull himself from the hole that felt deeper and more oppressive with every waking moment.

Then he met Fiona. She was scared and hesitant, but resilient. Her fire woke something back up in Maric. The want and ability to do things for the people. He was right to take back Ferelden, he didn’t argue that anymore, but he had been a lump of a king for too long and traveling with the Wardens in the Deep Roads gave him purpose again and a reason to live.

Fiona’s hard shell finally broke, and one night in the Deep Roads produced a sweet beautiful babe. Maric wasn’t sure if he could ever love after Katriel, and wasn’t even sure if the time spent with Fiona could be properly called love, but it didn’t affect the way he felt about the baby. She didn’t want their son to be the bastard child of the king, but Maric didn’t know if he could hide away any more of himself.

The plan was that Duncan would watch over the child in the care of a trusted family, possibly Eamon Guerrin in Redcliff, and the child could grow up without the pressures of royalty; something Maric had prayed for as a young man. But Maric just couldn’t accept that. He accepted Fiona’s icy glare but stood firm that he wouldn’t lose someone else he loved. Fiona left, upset at the turn of the events; swearing she would never return and to not let anyone know the child’s elf-blooded and magical background.

Loghain was furious, first for Maric running off, then for the appearance of the child. He left Denerim in a silent storm and returned to Gwaren. Even though Loghain never said a word, rumors and whispers began to form, creating pockets of doubt. Those at court knew Maric had left with the Grey Wardens, returning weeks later, months before the arrival of the baby.

But those who knew Maric well, knew he was an honorable man and eventually the good people of Ferelden accepted the babe as their prince. Cailan deserved a baby brother and Maric deserved to be happy after Rowan’s death.

Alistair Therein, Prince of Ferelden, was adored by the people while his mother stayed a mystery. After a cooling off period, Teryn Loghain Mac Tir came back to court bringing the young Anora with him. 

Anora and the Theirin princes grew up together, the intention of marriage even at such a young age was known and celebrated. The King’s and the Hero of River Dane’s children would create a strong and powerful relationship, and a reminder that the Orlesians were defeated.

While the court insisted on Anora being promised to Cailan, the fathers decided that should she choose Alistair, the choice would be honored. Maric and Loghain knew all too well the pain of separating love and duty and did not want that for their children.

In the end Anora chose Cailan. In hindsight it was obvious, he was smitten with her and she cherished him dearly even if she tried to hide it. Her ambition on the other hand for something greater was never hidden. If Cailan was bothered by the fact that Anora wanted to be queen as much, if not more, than just simply being with him, he never showed it.

Alistair was fine, if not relieved by the decision, when his brother announced him and Anora would wed soon. She had always felt more a sister than potential wife, and Alistair knew she would make a fine queen.

But Alistair was now fifteen, and choices would be made for him if he did not move quickly to make them himself.

Perhaps a daughter of a neighboring kingdom would be his bride; perhaps nobility from a smaller family. Whomever would be chosen for Alistair would need to be from a powerful family, and would need to help foster and increase relations. Regardless, rumors and suggestions were forming, and with them, Fiona's fears for her son's freedom were being made real.

Fiona didn’t reach out to Maric with these fears, often hearing the rumors weeks later, but she would cry herself to sleep at night, wishing she had fought harder for her son’s freedom to choose.

Maric held similar regret; he had chosen the life of a king, and it was he who chose this life for his youngest son. Alistair could never choose his own path; forced into a fate that needn’t have been his, had Maric not been so selfish.

Unlike Cailan, Alistair could have had the chance to live free from the restrictions and pressure, and this thought plagued the King, that somehow he had robbed his son of freedom in favor of knowing him.

So Maric vowed he would protect Alistair’s freedom as much as he could; if nothing else, Alistair would be allowed to find his own love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BRAND NEW CHAPTER NEXT


	2. Two Little Teyrnas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more stage setting for the only two young terynas in Thedas

The two girls who once would have greeted each other in squeals and laughter, met much more reserved on this day. 

The first was Anora Mac Tir, promised to the oldest son of Maric Theirin, and would one day be a princess and then a queen. Her days of pigtails and scraped knees were behind her. She stood tall and straight. Her light blonde hair pulled tightly against her scalp and back into the braids that would become her trademark. She pursed her lips judgingly at the only female friend she’d really had in her time at Denerim. 

The second girl was Livia Cousland. Bryce’s “spitfire” and she was all about scraped knees and wild hair. She marched in proudly, a dagger on her hip and a mabari war hound puppy by her side. Newly twelve years old, the youngest Cousland heir was learning to be an “adventurer”, and spent her time outside as much as possible, ruining every dress her mother had made for her. 

The puppy, still learning his role with his mistress, ran forward and jumped up on Anora. Livia clicked her tongue and whistled, but the puppy was too excited now. 

Anora calmly moved the dog off the front of her skirts and held the creature away, pointing a long finger and saying “no” in a firm voice. The puppy returned to a horrified Livia’s side, whimpering. 

“What was that?!” Livia accused. 

“You need to get your beast under control,” Anora replied icily. 

Livia shook with rage. He had only been with her a month and some days now. He was a puppy. He would learn. But not through fear. 

“You need to be put under control!” Livia retorted with hands on her hips. 

“Go play with the boys, I have no time for children,” Anora snapped and turned away, leaving the room. 

Walking quickly down the hall to her room, she flung the door open, and threw herself on her bed, tears already pouring from her eyes. 

What a little brat! 

Anora screamed into her pillow, hating how quickly the younger girl got under her skin. Her trainers and tutors told her, she had to keep her cool around others. Drilled it into her, sometimes with a thin switch. In royal court, there was no room for emotions or errors created by them. Passion was for fools. Reservation and patience lead to victory. 

_ It wasn’t fair, _ Anora sighed, the tears starting to dry on her cheeks,  _ I want a puppy too. _

\--

Livia watched the older girl leave the room, and tried to calm down. Her breathing was quick and sharp, her eyes blurred with tears. Steel stayed by her side and whined, drawing her attention. She scooped the already growing pup into her arms and buried her face into his sweet smelling fur. 

“Izat a mabari?” a small voice called out. 

Livia found the voice to a boy with sandy blonde hair, peeking in the doorway. 

“It is. Would you like to meet him?” she said, placing Steel back on the cool stone floors, and scrubbing the tears into her skin. 

The boy nodded and came into the room, plopping to the floor, and allowing Steel to sniff around him. The pup quickly grew to like the boy and jumped all over him, licking and sniffing, causing the boy to laugh gleefully. 

“I wish I could have a dog like this,” he murmured. 

Livia looked over the boy, who seemed a few years younger than her. His clothes were pretty plain, and she assumed he was a servant’s child. 

“I’m Livia.”

“Alistair.”

They spent the afternoon together, doing all the things Livia used to do with Anora. Unlike Anora, the boy was ready to follow any of her “commands” as they marched through the gardens slaying demons and monsters with sticks. 

“Livia!” a voice called, abruptly ending their play. 

“Daddy!” she called back and ran off to her father who was standing next to a man with the biggest beard she’d ever seen.

“Did you have fun today? Did you behave yourself?” she nodded quickly to the first question, and shrugged shyly to the second.

The bearded man let out a big laugh, and the young boy came to his side. 

“I’m glad you had a good day, but it is time for us to go. Say goodbye to the King and Prince.”

Livia’s eyes widened to the bearded man and the boy she’d spent most of the day with. 

“Good day, Your Majesty,” she curtsied in her dirty skirt. “I liked playing with you today Prince Alistair,” she awkwardly stooped down a bit and kissed the boy on the cheek. 

Alistair ducked behind his father’s legs, and the King let out another booming laugh. 

“Let’s go Pup. Your Majesty, I’ll be in touch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will have MAJOR edits


	3. The Royal Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's going to be a wedding!  
Alistair and Livia Cousland meet.

“So Cay, excited for the big day?” Alistair sidestepped around his brother’s servants as they dressed him. 

“I can think of no finer thing to do than marrying the sweet Anora,” Cailan responded in a sing-song voice.

He held his arms out, a golden embroidered white coat being slid over his arms and shoulders. The Highever Weave used for the suit had been a special gift from the Teryn of Highever, carefully bleached white with lye in a process that took months. Golden vines and leaves embroidered along the sides of the coat, done specially for Cailan. 

“Uh-huh. Well I’m just excited Father let me wear this finally.” Alistair said proudly showing off his dragon armor. 

He had it specially made for today, by a newcomer known only as Master Wade, but it had been sitting in the royal armory for over a month now. Alistair would often go and just look at the impressive forge of gilded iron. The delicate inlay of flames covered the gauntlets and greaves, all leading to the massive dragon face on his chest plate. His helmet adorned with a bright green plume, his way of honoring the late Queen Rowan. 

Despite it being impossible, she was treated as his mother. He had no one else to fall back on, and Rowan had been a powerful leader and warrior. He felt pride thinking of the woman who was such a force in driving out the occupation.

An elven girl finished the braids on the side of Cailan’s head and fastened his hair back, her deft hands moving quickly and perfectly before she stepped back, her eyes catching with Alistair’s. She blushed and quickly lowered her head. 

“So when do you expect we’ll be doing this for you?” Cailan asked, a sly grin on his face catching the brief moment. Alistair had shown no signs of much interest in women, something Cailan could not understand. 

Alistair blushed and mumbled something. 

“What’s that? Can’t heeear you,” Cailan teased. 

Alistair let out a large breath. “I don’t know. The people whisper already that Father has a line of ladies for me to meet today. But I’m not too concerned. Let’s get you married first!” He finished enthusiastically, pushing through the servants and clapping his hands on his brother’s shoulders.

With that, there was a quick rap at the door and it slowly peaked open. 

“Your highness? It is time.”

Cailan shook his brother off and turned to look at him. “Wish me luck!”

“Good luck, brother.”

\--

“Good people of Ferelden, may we announce the royal couple; Cailan and Anora Theirin, Prince and Princess of Ferelden!”

The crowd exploded with excitement as Cailan and Anora made their entrance from the Chantry at the Royal Palace. Cailan stepped forward in his elaborate and handsome golden and white suit, with a wide grin as he waved to the people. Anora, at his side, her lace cream dress showing off her shoulders, while her attendants kept her court train off the ground. Her lips were pulled back in a demure smile as she gently waved to her future subjects. 

Maric walked behind them, a goofy grin plastered over his face, with Alistair by his side.

As Alistair looked out at the people of Denerim and wondered what it would be like to be one of them. He had a gut feeling that this was never supposed to be his place. He never felt unwelcomed in the palace, but something sat inside him telling him he would never be satisfied living as a prince. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to serve his country, he just wasn’t sure where he stood under his brother’s shadow of future king.

As Maric’s closest friend and advisor, Loghain Mac Tir and his honor guard came last, the general’s stern face and sharp blue eyes gave nothing away; a complete opposite to Maric’s joyous face.

The parade wound through the streets allowing the citizens of Ferelden to see the wedding procession. The people screamed in excitement, crying out good wishes for an heir, throwing flower petals and small trinkets at the feet of the newlyweds. 

Cailan loved every second, waving and blowing kisses, inciting screams from young maidens. Anora kept her composer, bowing her head to well wishes, but otherwise giving nothing else away.

Alistair marched at his father’s side, wondering if the woman he would marry was somewhere in the sea of people right now screaming for a glance in their direction. Would she blow kisses or simply smile at their subjects?

The procession eventually made its way back to the Royal Palace, the guards escorting nobles into the palace for the reception and keeping the crowds from getting too wild.

“Alistair,” Maric started as they watched the bride and groom make their way back up the steps, “give the armor a rest and find something more suitable, I have some people I would like to introduce to you.”

“Father…” Alistair groaned. He wasn’t too surprised; he knew there was a certain expectation of duty to marry. Even though Calian was only hours married at this point, Alistair was coming up close to his sixteenth year and the possibility of being married by his eighteenth wasn’t unlikely.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about this. Despite Cailan’s prying, Alistair wasn’t blind, and had taken notice to the fairer sex in their sleek dresses and soft curls. He knew one day he would marry, but he hoped it would be out of love; the way the stories of Maric and Rowan were told to him. He wondered if his father loved his mother the same way; if he was a product of love or just a mistake.

Maric watched his youngest go through multiple emotions at a rapid rate. 

“Alistair?” he prodded, a softness in his voice. 

Alistair returned to the present and started walking towards the stairs. “I’m going, I’m going.” 

“I’d sell you to the Chantry if I could!” Maric playfully called after. 

“And what a fine Templar, I’d make!” Alistair shouted backwards, now taking stairs two at a time. 

Alistair smiled at the thought of him being a Templar. He liked the swordplay and learning to hone his skills, but the rules sounded crushing. Yet, he always wondered what he should do. As second son, he wasn’t expected to take the throne, but there were still only a few options he could pick from. He wasn’t sure he wanted to just hang around the castle as a Prince. 

He had sometimes wondered what it would be like to be a Grey Warden. His father told fantastical stories of them. Having traveled with them before his birth, Maric always hyped the stories up; riding on griffons and slaying dragons. But the last Blight was almost 400 years ago and the Grey Wardens only a memory now, yet Alistair romanticized the idea of saving the world as one.

He was still lost in the train of thoughts, as his maids near unnoticeably and efficiently removed the armor for proper cleaning and storage and dressed him in garments suitable for his brother’s wedding reception. 

He glanced briefly at himself in the mirror and donned an emerald green summer cloak over the sienna tunic and pants, and shifted his foot better into the soft leather boots. He nodded in approval and tried to hide any apprehension of being introduced around. At the very least, there would be good food. 

Alistair came to the ballroom with the party in full swing and began looking for his father to meet the mystery persons in question. 

“Alistair!” Maric’s voice boomed over the crowds. Alistair immediately saw his father’s golden hair and walked over to the gathering of people around him. Not people, Alistair immediately spotted, but women. Ladies. Ladies all waiting to meet him. Alistair swallowed hard and swept a hand through his hair, hoping it wasn’t messy.

“Your highness,” a maiden stepped forward, bowing deeply and fluttering her piercing green eyes at the Prince. She stood and offered a hand, “Izot Wulff of West Hills, my lord.”

Alistair bowed politely and kissed the provided hand and eyed the lady in front of him. She was slender, her deep purple everknit wool dress hugging onto her body.

“My lady,” he replied with a soft smile. She looked at him hungrily and Alistair felt uncomfortable under her stare. She could only be a year or two older and she looked ready to pounce.

In rapid succession, Alistair was presented with the Marquis of Serault, Lady Amell of Kirkwall, Lady Flora Harriman of Kirkwall, and the Duchess of Wycome. All fine women, all around Alistair’s age, yet none of them made Alistair feel any kind of way. He nodded politely, laughed at their jokes, looked comfortable with their delicate hands on his arms, but Maric could see in his son’s eyes that Alistair was bored. There would be no match-making here.

Maric, ready to give up and let his son go, but his eyes brightened as he waved the family of four over.

“Bryce!” Maric called over. “These are the Couslands of Highever,” Maric whispered to his son. Alistair looked at his father mildly offended, of course he knew the Couslands of Highever. He did pay attention during his lessons and had seen Lord Cousland many a times at the Landsmeet. 

Bryce Cousland looked up and nodded to his king, gathering his wife, son, daughter-in-law, and daughter to come meet the young prince.

Alistair internally groaned. Not more people. He straightened up, slapped on a smile and mentally prepared himself for, he was sure, more idle chatter.

“Your highness, an honor. May the Maker bless your brother’s union,” Lord Bryce bowed.

“This is my wife Eleanor, my son Fergus and his wife Oriana, and my daughter Livia,” he introduced.

Alistair bowed in return, already planning a plausible excuse to escape the conversation when his eyes finally landed on Livia.

Maybe it was the rich red of her dress against her golden brown hair or her eyes brighter than a clear sunny day, or just the way she looked at him with a slight smirk, but his attention was captured. 

He took her hand gently, never letting his eyes lose hers, and placed a gentle kiss on her hand. It smelled of rich leather and something floral. He let go, his breath caught in his throat.

“Your highness,” she said calmly. 

The other ladies, hoping this was a quick introduction, moved in just a touch closer. Their antics almost comical as they fluffed their hair and pulled their dresses down a bit to show more cleavage. To be escorted by the young prince for the evening would strengthen their bid of becoming a Princess of Ferelden. 

Livia found the behavior akin to vultures.  _ Filthy scavengers,  _ she thought to herself. There was no denying the prince was very handsome, even at fifteen, but Livia had little interest in tying herself down to a lord, much less a prince. Especially a Theirin Prince, the rumors of his father and older brother alone were enough to make her shudder at the idea. She felt a certain pity for the now Princess Anora. The two had spent time together once upon a time, but had little in common outside of that. 

Yet, Livia didn’t like the idea of the Prince being forced to deal with one of the flouncing women behind them. She might not have much interest in him herself, but there was no reason she couldn’t be an ally. She inched closer to the prince and cocked her head to the side. Alistair swallowed tightly. The ladies glared.

“Your Highness.” Lord Cousland bowed and Lady Cousland curtsied.

“What a momentous occasion. The children of the heroes who drove the Orelesian occupation away! They will sing ballads of this night,” Lady Cousland cooed. 

“Only if they are as impressive as  _ The Seawolf and The Soldier _ ,” Maric jested, earning a blush from the Lady Cousland. 

“Oh, those days are long behind me. I hardly see myself as a battle maiden anymore.”

“In Antiva, a woman fighting in battle would be… unthinkable,” Oriana interjected leaning into Fergus. 

“In my travels, I’ve met Antivans, women or otherwise, to be quite the dangerous lot,” Maric replied. 

“With kindness and poison only, Your Majesty.”

“This from the woman who brings me my tea!” Fergus joked. 

“And what of the last Cousland lady? Lady Livia, do you follow in your mother’s footsteps? I’m sure you know the stories, but she was quite fierce on the seas against the Orlesians.”

Livia glanced between her mother and the king. Eleanora  _ insisted _ that Livia not mention her swordplay training, but this was the one of the few things Livia liked to talk about. 

“I do in fact, Your Majesty. I’m currently training with some of Father’s knights.”

Maric’s eyes lit up and he nudged Alistair’s foot. Alistair always had a fondness for women in armor with big swords. He swore he’d marry Ser Cautherine when he was younger. 

Alistair widened his eyes at his father and shook his head the tiniest amount. Livia had shifted closer to him, and sometimes his pinky would brush against his hand. Anytime he looked down, he had a  _ very _ clear view down the front of her dress, and found it best for his eyes to be elsewhere. 

“My pup is a feisty one, your Majesty!” Lord Cousland said proudly. 

“I can tell!” Maric responded joyously. “Lady Livia, what are you studying now? Maybe bow or daggers?”

“I actually prefer the longsword,” she said coolly. Elenora glared daggers at her daughter and Livia pursed her lips in mild irritation. “But I also enjoy horseback riding, history, and poetry.” 

Maric nodded thoughtfully, “And what of the young Lord Fergus? What are you and your lovely wife’s plans?”

Livia was becoming tired of the pleasantries and could see the prince’s eyes pulled away to anywhere but here. 

“Father, Mother, your Majesty,” she interrupted, “would it be okay if Prince Alistair escorts me for the evening?”

The adults all stopped talking, Fergus was sharing his most recent trip to Antivia with Oriana, but stopped and raised his eyebrows at his baby sister. 

Livia rolled her eyes at him, and slid her elbow into Alistair’s arm and pulled slightly, grabbing his attention back. He blushed profusely, and faked a coughing fit to turn his head away while calming down. 

Her chest was pressed against the back of his arm, soft and warm, and Alistair could feel his face heat back up. 

The adults all nodded in agreement, and Alistair let Livia drag him away, making sure to pass by the ladies standing in wait. 

She flashed them a devilish smile and they quickly scattered. 

Maric looked softly after the pair as they vanished into the crowds of people, turning back to Bryce and Elanora, who were both looking quite pleased.

\--

Livia breathed a sigh of relief, the air already feeling more open. She hated when her mother paraded her in front of “potential suitors”. She felt like a bug under a looking glass, any minute before she would burst into flames. She lessened her grip on the prince’s arm, not realizing how tensed she had become. 

Alistair relaxed, but also immediately missed the intimate contact. He waved down a servant and grabbed two goblets of honeyed wine, handing one to the lady. 

They stood awkwardly in what felt like the middle of the room, feeling the stares and whispers. 

Alistair smiled and nodded politely at everyone who passed, while nursing his drink, knowing full well what this walk meant, or looked like it meant. 

Livia sighed into her cup, feeling like she read the situation wrong. The prince would hardly look at her still. 

“Your highness,” she began, finally drawing his eyes to hers; his were a rich copper, and showed his smile without her even having to look at his mouth. “I didn’t mean to drag you away, I just needed some air. If there was another lady you wished to spend your time with…” she trailed off, giving him an easy out. 

His sharp ‘no’ surprised her, and his eyes softened in apology. “No, I, just.” He brushed a hand through his long hair pulling some of it loose from the tie in the back. “I would rather,” he said slowly as if picking each word out slowly, “spend the evening with you.”

Livia smiled brightly, never having felt wanted like this. Eleanor was quick to parade her youngest around since reaching maturity, but as soon as she spoke of learning to fight, especially with blades, many lost interest, which she was fine with. 

“Not interested in the ladies from across the pond?”

Alistair snorted with laughter. “Maybe if they liked me for me, and not that I’m a prince.”

Livia smiled shyly appreciating the young man’s words. 

“Shall we wander?” she asked. 

Alistair nodded enthusiastically and offered back his arm. 

“So, Lady Livia…” he began.

“Livia is fine, Your Highness,” she offered, her lips widened to a grin.

“Then please call me Alistair,” he countered. “Livia, tell me about what got you interested in swordplay?”

Livia’s eyes widened and she began to talk animatedly about her twelfth birthday, when her father got her a mabari puppy and a dagger that was once her mother’s. 

Eleanor was furious with her husband, giving a young child, and a girl, a weapon, but Livia was so proud and marched around with her “blade and Steel” for months. 

Her hands moving animatedly around as she spoke, never noticing the looks and whispers the pair got walking through the room. 

“I love the power I possess when there is a blade in my hand,” she finished, her face flushed and eyes bright. 

Alistair swallowed hard. Maker, be praised.

While making their rounds, they ended up in front of Cailan and Anora. Cailan was laughing gaily, obviously a goblet or two in too deep. Anora sat posed and quiet, offering appropriate pleasantries in return to her well-wishers. 

Alistair and Livia were next and Cailan leaped from his chair. 

“Ho, Alistair! Brother! Friend! And who is this?” He eyed Livia and turned on his princely smile.

“Husband, this is Livia Cousland: Bryce’s youngest,” Anora introduced.

She bowed to Cailan and turned to Anora. “May the Maker smile on your union.”

“Yes! Cousland. Bryce’s youngest,” Cailan murmured, his eyes glazed and trailing down her body. Livia stood straighter and turned her gaze icy, before giving a side nod to Anora in way of apology. 

Anora pursed her lips and placed a firm hand on Cailan’s shoulder.

“Come husband. Let’s wish our friends well and return to our chambers. I fear the wine has been too strong for you tonight.”

Cailan shushed to no one but sat down and nodded. Anora summoned a servant, who quickly quieted the room. 

Anora stood, her hands gently clasped together in front of her, as she addressed the crowd. Cailan sat taller in his throne and watched her, a slow smile playing out on his face.

“Lords and Ladies of Ferelden, I am honored you all came tonight. The love I feel from this room, from all of Ferelden, is the greatest gift of all. Thank you for accepting me as your Princess, but if you will excuse me, it is time my Prince and I retire for the night.”

The crowd burst into cheers; chatter began about future princes and princesses surely to be made tonight. Cailan stood and held his bride’s hand and together they departed. 

Alistair and Livia made their way back into the party, her arm still in his. Livia started walking towards her parents but Alistair pulled gently and nodded to a door. Livia looked at him quizzically but followed. 

He leads them outside to the Royal Gardens, the warm summer air buzzing with insect activity. 

They walked the paths past the roses, embriums, and crystal grace in comfortable silence. 

“Forgive me if this is presumptuous…” Alistair began, nervous of his own words. “But I would like it if we could correspond after you return to Highever.” He fidgeted with his hands, seeming to forget Livia could feel every anxious movement through her arm still entwined with his.

“I would like that Alistair.” 

“Will I see you at the tourney tomorrow?”

Livia got a mischievous look on her face. “I’m sure we’ll run into each other. I should be returning to my family now.”

Alistair let his head fall in agreement but a bit of disappointment and escorted her back inside and through the dying party back to her family. 

“Teryn Cousland, it was a pleasure,” Alistair bowed respectfully. 

Bryce raised his eyes, noticing his daughter’s slightly flushed face and returned the gesture.

“Good evening, Your Highness.” 

The party was mostly over now as Alistair made his way back to Maric. He found his father surveying the large room, the last Lords and Ladies departing, the servants starting to gather refuse. 

“Good evening?” Maric asked as his son came to stand next to him. 

“We’re going to write. I want to invite her to the palace next summer,” said Alistair unsurely. This was the test if he was being forced into a political marriage or allowed to choose for himself. Cailan had a “choice” but growing up with Anora down the hall meant he didn’t have as many options.

Maric glanced at his son a bit surprised. He honestly had no intentions of setting Alistair up with Bryce’s daughter, but was not unhappy about the turn of events. He wanted to say something, acknowledge what a solid alliance this would make, or mention Livia’s many skills she seemed to display, but he thought better of it. He wanted Alistair to have his freedom, the young man didn’t need his father’s input. 

“Very well. I’m glad you had a good time.”

Alistair’s nervousness faded immediately, and he quickly found the departing Cousland family, catching Livia’s attention for a moment longer. 

She smiled and gave a little wave, calling out, “Your Highness, I’ll be in touch!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to wheresyourfire, my amazing beta!  
\--  
Next chapter is 100% new!


	4. Summer Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Prince and the Lady get to know each other better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Highever  
Cloudreach 9:26 Dragon

Castle Cousland was in full swing. Prince Alistair Theirin was coming to stay for an undisclosed period of time to see Lady Livia. They pair had spent the time between the Royal Wedding and now sending letters at a rapid pace. Often a messenger would arrive with Alistair’s reply and be begged to stay just for a few hours for Livia to send one back with him. These letters were far too precious for Pigeon Post, and so the Royal messenger became private to Prince Alistair and was very well compensated for such an honor. 

Alistair was all ready to invite Livia to the Royal Palace when he received a letter from her first inviting him to Castle Cousland. 

Bryce and Eleanor were initially furious at their youngest for acting so rash. Regardless that both were thrilled how taken the two seemed with each other, one did not just causally invite a Prince to come visit for “awhile.”

When Alistair’s reply came with an extra letter from King Maric, it was decided that Alistair would come to Castle Cousland the first week of summer and stay for at least a month. King Maric offered to send servants, food, wine, and some gold for their troubles of hosting his son but the Couslands were here nothing of it, it was an honor to hold such a prestigious guest. 

Once announced, Livia was properly chastised and told that she would be responsible for keeping the young prince entertained. She shyly smiled and said it wouldn’t be a problem. 

Livia was on cloud nine. She day dreamed during her history lessons unless it was about the Theirin family history. She loved the romance stories between Maric and Rowan and the war stories of the Rebel Queen Moira. 

Her sword work continued to get better. She switched her primary dagger to a full sword, sometimes sneaking a practice with the Family Sword. Her training began to blend the finesse of the rogue with the ferocity of the warrior. 

After lessons she would ride her horse through the forests and along the coastline, often coming home with her dresses in tatters. Eventually Bryce felt it unfair and expensive to keep mending and replacing the dresses and allowed Livia to wear leather armor, even around the castle. Eleanor fought back weakly, before realizing her daughter would always be more fighter than lady. 

On the day of Alistair’s arrival, Livia came to the front gate in a dress of her own creation. The top bodice was plain leather with a gold breast plate, while the skirt was a dark navy blue, probably one of the destroyed dresses born again. When she spun it was made obvious that the dress had been cut up the side, allowing for leg movement. She wore her hair on top her head in a bun, with a braid snaking down the side by her left ear. 

Alistair rode up on a magnificent golden steed, with his two personal guards just behind him. 

Livia broke into a smile and then a run, hiking her skirt up enough to show off her leather boots as she sprinted down the path. Alistair dismounted his horse and caught her in a spinning hug. 

The two stood facing each other in a gentle embrace, until Tomas coughed. 

Alistair grinned sheepishly and pulled away as Lord and Lady Cousland met up with them. 

“Your Highness,” they said bowing. 

“Lord and Lady Cousland, I am so grateful you have opened your home to me. The scenery is beautiful,” he said and winked at Livia. 

Livia swatted him arm playfully, the servants who’d come to collect Alistair’s belongings gasping at the familiarity. 

Lady Eleanor coughed and widened her eyes at her youngest. Livia lowered her shoulders and backed away.

“Would your highness like to see the grounds?” Livia asked.

“I would enjoy that very much,” Alistair replied impishly.

“While you two enjoy your walk, I will have your things taken to your room, your highness. We shall see you both for supper in a few hours. Be good you two,” Eleanor added hastily. Not unaware of what the young persons might get up to.

Livia giggled and took Alistair’s arm, dragging him away from everyone.

Tomas smiled after his prince, before nodding to the staff to take the horses to the stables, and the luggage to the rooms.

They ran to the woods first. Drawing deep into the canopy before Livia threw herself into Alistair’s arms, smothering his face with kisses.

“I. Missed. You. So. Much,” She punctuated each word with a kiss.

“And. I. You,” he responded in kind.

He framed her face in his hands staring deep into her eyes. He felt so grown up with her by his side, so strong and capable. He knew he wasn’t seen as a powerful player in Denerim court. Not that he minded, but with her at his side, he felt he could do anything.

She nuzzled her face into his palm, nipping lightly at the rough skin.

“Maker’s breath, but you are beautiful,” Alistair sighed and pulled away, brushing his hair back with his hand.

“You think?” Livia asked, and gave a twirl, her skirt kicking up around her.

“I know,” he grinned and pulled her close again, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. He pulled away after a moment, leaving the two breathless.

Both terrified yet excited what this trip might mean.

Livia coughed and brushed a stray strand of hair back behind her ear.

“What would you like to do? We can ride horses, or go swimming, or…”

Alistair silenced her with another kiss, squeezing her body tight against his own.

Livia froze in his grasp, and he gently let go.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” he started.

“No... it’s nice… I just…”

The two stood awkwardly apart now, a gulf of tension and anticipation boiling between them.

“Why don’t you show me the sea?” Alistair offered.

Livia’s eye lit up and she took his hand in hers, leading him deeper into the trees. 

They walked in silence, Alistair taking in the lush green forest. He had never really left Denerim and had never seen such large trees. So broad they blocked out the sun.

Livia was in her comfort zone now, knowing the grounds well enough to avoid downed branches, her footsteps soft and intentional.

The tree line broke and they stood on a cliff overlooking the Waking Sea.

The salty air whipped her hair out of its twisted updo, the soft waves covering her face. Alistair was awestruck. He never thought, never imagined he could feel this way. His heart tight in his chest.

Livia turned towards him, a smile behind the hair and she moved her hand to push it away but Alistair caught it holding his hand over hers on her cheek.

“I love you Livia,” he blurted out.

Her eyes grew wide and Alistair stepped back, letting his hand drop.

“Maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe I’m fooling myself. Am I? Fooling myself? Or do you think you might ever… feel the same way about me?” Alistair asked cautiously. He felt foolish for sure. He was only sixteen! What did he really know about love?

But the way she made him felt, he had no doubts of his own heart, just wasn’t sure about hers.

Livia stepped forward, sliding her hand up his chest. Was she ready for this? She had seen marriages far younger, but those often had little to do with love. Could she be feeling this? This fire burning inside her to stay by his side no matter way?

“I think I already do,” Livia replied, her eyes wide and accepting.

Alistair face changed from panic to relief and he pulled her tight, burying his face into her hair.

They stood like this for a tiny eternity, the waves crashing into the cliffs below, the birds cawing in the distance.

It was Livia who finally broke it up, pulling away gently and taking his large hands in hers.

“We should, uh, get back,” she spoke barely above a whisper, her face flushed and glowing.

Alistair dropped his head in agreement and captured her lips in a soft kiss.

\--

In the end, Alistair spent seven weeks at Castle Cousland.

The young couple spent every waking hour together, horseback riding through Highever and visiting smaller towns and villages much to the delight of the people. They studied together, at Tomas’s insistence, and sparred, Livia thrilled Alistair wasn’t turned off by this part of her.

When he left, Livia hid herself in the woods for hours before returning to the castle, the spark in her dimmed.

Alistair promised to write as much as possible, and made sure to formally invite Livia to Denerim for the next summer, not allowing her to get the upper hand again. The Couslands thanked him for the offer, but still wanted the young Prince to check in with the King before making any promises to send their youngest away.


	5. What is Love?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair gets hardened.   
Not like THAT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bloomingtide 9:27 Dragon

It had been two years since Cailan and Anora married and yet there was no heir; not for a lack of trying. Cailan had quite the appetite and Anora knew her role well. Yet Maric was tired and he was ready to move on. In an unconventional move, Maric abdicated the throne and Cailan was crowned King with Anora as Queen. Maric moved to the Hinterlands to finally rest after many long years of running and ruling. Some rumored it was to return to Alistair’s mystery mother, other speculated he was ready to move onto the Maker’s hands and wanted to make sure everything was okay for a while before he was gone. 

With his brother safely in the King’s Throne, Alistair assumed he was safe to continue on as usual. Even with no little niece or nephew yet on the way, Maker forbid that Alistair would ever need to rule. Besides he had his own plans. With a blessing from his Father and from Lord Cousland, Alistair was ready to propose.

He knew it was early. Knew she might say no. He didn’t think she would though, not after last summer in Highever.

Exactly two years after his brother’s wedding and the night they met, he walked in the Royal Gardens with Livia’s arm linked with his as it had been that first night they met. 

“Livia,” Alistair began, “I, well…” Alistair began to sweat profusely and pulled away to wipe his brow.

“Are you okay?” 

_ " _ No! I mean yes, I mean…I'm a little nervous, sure. Not that this is anything bad or frightening or…well, yes." Alistair groaned to himself. Some proposal this was. She was going to laugh at him or leave him for this mess. He was the Prince of Denerim! Didn’t he have someone to do this for him?

Livia looked at him with a mixture of amusement and confusion. He was almost as blustered as when he suggested that they, “…share the evening together, maybe?” a month before when she arrived in Denerim. His tact had gotten better over the years, and she was almost positive she knew where this was going, but by the Maker if she didn’t love watching him fumble like this. 

"Oh, how do I say this? You'd think it would be easier, but every time I'm around you, I feel as if my head's about to explode. I-I can't think straight."

Livia bit her lower lip to hide her giggle. A small one escape and Alistair looked as if she had stabbed him.

“You’re laughing. You’re laughing at me. I’m laughable.”

“Alistair, stop. Look at me.” Livia pulled his hands into hers and stared into his deep amber eyes.

“I feel the same.” Alistair breathed in deeply and held her hands tighter. He took a deep breath and tried again.

"Here's the thing: being near you makes me crazy, but I can't imagine being without you. Not…ever.” Alistair reached into his pocket and pulled out a simple gold band with a delicate ruby carved into a rose on top. “Livia Cousland, will you do me the honor and become a Princess of Ferelden?”

Livia’s heart exploded. ‘Of course!’ She wanted to shout. But his words caught her off guard. 

“Princess of Ferelden?” It felt wrong on her tongue. She was no princess. She had no interest in it. She felt stupid; of course she would be Princess if she married Alistair. It wasn’t that it ever connected for her, but when they were together he wasn’t Prince of Ferelden, he was just Alistair. When they first met at Cailan’s wedding, she internally mocked the ladies throwing themselves at the young prince, but after she met him, his boyish grin and raw excitement, she fell in love. 

“I mean being married would make it so, but I imagine we could settle anywhere. With Cailan as King, I don’t have too many responsibilities around here…” The light in Alistair’s eyes started to dim. Why was she asking questions about titles and not saying yes? He was so sure she would say yes.

Livia opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to make her mouth work. Why was her mouth so dry?

“Alistair,” she began knowing the end of this conversation would shatter her. “I love you. More than anything. But I want to be more than a princess.”

Alistair was confused. She wanted to be queen? 

“I don’t understand…”

“It’s not that I want more power or anything. I want to be more than the Princess of Ferelden. I want to live my life. Fergus and Oriana will take over Highever and I can do whatever. Go wherever. I can be more than just a princess, I can be  _ me _ .”

Alistair was struck silent. He didn’t know what he could say, because marrying him tied her down and apparently he wasn’t enough. He couldn’t be her world. This angered him. She was his everything! Why couldn’t he be hers?

“I…I…” Alistair tried to say through too many layers of too many emotions. 

“I’m sorry.” Livia closed his hands around the ring, and turned away to leave. She paused and turned back, so desperately wanting to kiss him one last time, but decided against it and left the gardens. 

Alistair watched her walk away. Turn around he willed. Turn around and say I can be enough, that we can make it work. He watched until the door back to palace slammed shut. 

It was over. She was gone. 

\--

Livia returned to Castle Cousland in a somber state. Bryce and Eleanor knew the prince’s intentions, and figured Livia would not be back so soon.

But when she returned, alone, at least a month before they expected, they knew plans had changed. They let Livia have her space and kept their distance, figuring their proud daughter would tell them if and when she was ready.

About 200 miles away Alistair was on his own quest. Only hours after Livia left, Alistair summoned Tomas, horses and provisions and said he was going to visit his father in the Hinterlands. There was no compelling reason not to, and the pair set off the next morning.

Maric had set up near Redcliffe in Winterwatch Tower and that’s where Alistair was headed. Were it not for Tomas to keep an eye on the young price and the horses, Alistair might have ridden the fair beast to death in an attempt to outrun his pain.

Tomas had a fair guess that the proposal had not gone well, but aside from a few grunts, Prince Alistair had been silent for the entire length of the journey.

King Maric was enjoying the Hinterlands without the constant threat of death around every corner, unlike when he first lived in the area. He received the letter that his youngest was coming to visit, and knew it was either a very good sign or a very bad one.

When Alistair and Tomas arrived, Alistair leapt off his horse and stormed into the castle searching for his father, stopping in the kitchen to take a bottle of wine.

Maric was on an upper level and had seen their arrival, figuring his son would come find him. And so Alistair did, already having drank a quarter of the bottle.

They sat in silence, the cool breeze from the Frostbacks already blowing into the valley.

Maric glance at his son, already seeing the fine man he was becoming. Already more ready to rule than he had been at this age, even though Alistair didn’t know it himself.

But he also knew Alistair was young, a mere seventeen. He didn’t disagree with the choice for Alistair to propose, it wasn’t uncommon, but he did wonder why Livia said no.

“Well she did. I just wanted the love that you and Queen Rowan had. The fairy tale life, everyone into the sunset, all that,” Alistair slightly slurred. 

Maric let out a sad chuckle, “Rowan wasn’t my great love, Alistair. We had been promised very young, and in a way I did love her, but she wasn’t the one,” Maric paused here unsure if he should continue but decided to anyways, “Her name was Katriel. She was hired to destroy me and in the end we fell in love. She haunts my dreams. I see her face everywhere and I know we can never be together again. It was my own brash actions that removed her from my life and I live with that weight every day.”

Alistair mused on this, drinking more wine, and feeling like a spoiled brat. Livia was his first love, but that didn’t mean she had to be his last. He knew this, but right now it felt impossible to ever feel anything again.

“Where did my mother fit into this?” Alistair asked. 

Maric closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair.

“I met her during a very hard time in my life. Rowan was dead. Cailan was young. My relationship with Loghain was never the same after… well we were no longer the brothers we once felt like. I didn’t even know your mother was pregnant. She couldn’t keep you, but didn’t want you raised at court. I told her I couldn’t lose another piece of myself and denied her request. We didn’t part on the best of terms.”

Alistair knew so little of his mother, knowing the King had left court, returned and a baby followed shortly after. He had at least hoped he was the product of love. 

“Did you love her?”

Maric let out a struggled breath, “I….” had he loved Fiona? It had been almost twenty years and their time together had been so short. 

Alistair waved the question away, no sure if he wanted confirmation from his father that he was a byproduct of a night and not made from love. 

“Who was she? Where is she? Is she still alive?”

Maric considered this. Fiona asked for so few things, and he denied the biggest one immediately. To know his mother was an elven Grey Warden mage wouldn’t help anything, and he wasn’t sure what harm it could do in the future. 

“She was brave. Intelligent. A fine warrior. A kind friend and a loyal companion.”

Alistair snorted. This didn’t answer the real questions he had. His father had his reasons for not giving him a direct answer but after riding hard for days, and most of the wine gone, Alistair wasn’t in the mood for discretion.

Sensing his sons discontent, Maric reached forward, placing a hand on his son’s forearm.

“Alistair, I know you love Livia. Keep loving her. But don’t let her not being with you poison your heart. You are more than just her, even when it doesn’t feel like it.”

Alistair nodded and dropped the now empty bottle to the floor, it clattering on the stone balcony.

“She didn’t want to be a princess. That was her reason. Said she wanted to be more than a ‘Princess of Ferelden’,” Alistair scoffed.

Maric closed his eyes and felt a ball guilt drop into his stomach. He was quite fond of the young Cousland. Proud of how Alistair grew up for her. She would have made a great ruler. But the ability to rule didn’t necessarily overwrite the desire to rule; he learned that the hard way. 

Maric stood first and placed a strong hand on his son’s shoulder, giving a squeeze before he retired, allowing the young man to sit with his feelings a moment longer.

The wine not blocking enough, Alistair stewed in the ‘what ifs’ his mind played over and over again. If he had used better words. If the ring was nicer. If he did it sooner or later or never. If he chased after her. If, if, if, if. There was no going back now and no wondering of different presents or futures.

At this time, Alistair resigned himself to never love again. He may never have Livia at his side, but he would not let anyone else take that place. Sure of his mind and heart, he stood ready to find a soft bed to collapse into.

He looked over the railing on the balcony, the lush forests starting to turn orange and yellow. The setting sun made it look like the world was on fire, and for Alistair it was. He cracked a half smile before heading downstairs to sleep the past week off.

\--

Alistair stayed with Maric at Winterwatch for ten days. In that time, they rode together, hunted, enjoyed fine wines and local delicacies sent to Maric from nearby villages who remembered the King fondly when he had been a much younger man. 

They met with Arl Eamon and Bann Tegan for supper the last night of Alistair’s trip at Redcliffe Castle. 

“Prince Alistair, what are your intentions once returning to Denerim?” Bann Tegan asked, slicing into a thick slab of meat. 

Alistair opened his mouth and almost slipped, “to plan a wedding” before reality hit him. “I’m not sure yet Lord Tegan. See what Cailan needs me to do.”

Tegan nodded and looked to Maric, who had a sad smile on his face from watching his son. 

“I hear the young Lady Cousland has been hosting salons in Highever. Tegan has been invited personally to meet the young woman,” Eamon offered, unaware of the courting that Livia and Alistair had so recently been in. 

Alistair swallowed heavily and smiled blankly at the Arl. “You don’t say. I wish Lady Livia all the best. Enjoy Highever, Lord Tegan, it’s beautiful this time of year.” Alistair stood suddenly, causing the table to shake, “If you all will excuse me.”

Alistair bowed his head and left the dining room, heading straight for the courtyard. 

Once outside, Alistair gasped for breath, his heart racing in his chest. He slowed his breathing and stood straight, rolling his shoulders back, letting a cool mask take over his face. 

Maric joined Alistair’s side and noticed the distinct shift in his younger son’s face and aura. Maric shook his head sadly, recognizing the cold boiling rage under the surface and the outward numbness to hide it away. There was nothing he could do now. Alistair had to figure this out for himself. 

Maric pat his son’s shoulder and went back inside Castle Redcliffe.

Alistair barely noticed his father’s presence and then absence, trying to contain the tsunami of emotions rolling through him. 

He was Prince Alistair Theirin of Ferelden. Son of King Maric the Savior, brother to King Cailan, and he was going to do his duty. 

\--

In the morning, Alistair and Tomas saddled up the horses, bags packed full of previsions, and two letters to come home, one for Cailan and one for Alistair for a dark moment in his life.

The trip home was quick and more or less uneventful. Alistair stopped in small villages when he could, greeting the people, learning of their troubles. He had a full parchment of things the people in his kingdom needed; from help with building new grain mills, to medical aid, and farm animal husbandry. 

Alistair and Tomas returned to Denerim at midday, well rested, his heart a bit less heavy, and ready to throw himself into work.

Riding through the city was morose. Women in all black wandered the streets wailing and the Chantry bells were ringing nonstop. 

Alistair looked at Tomas curiously, who had died while they were away? Maybe it was Mykass Rendells, he was well into his seventies. 

“Good lady,” Alistair asked a wailing woman from atop his steed, “Why is the city mourning?”

“Prince Alistair!” she choked back a sob, “The King, the king is dead!”

Alistair paled, kicking his horse into gear, headed to the palace. People in the streets quickly leapt out of the way from the charging stallion and the panicked prince. 

Alistair leapt off his horse, and ran through the courtyard, rushing through the doors into the throne room. 

Cailan sat on the throne, his face pale and greyed, with Anora crying quietly at his side. 

“Cailan?” Alistair asked, his voice thick with emotion, “No, no, no. When?” Alistair tried to step forward, but his feet were glued in place. 

“We,” Cailan’s voice tight and small, “We received word this morning. He returned to the Maker’s side two days ago in his sleep.”

Alistair felt weak and sank to the floor. Two days ago he was riding with Tomas through a small village in the Bannorn. They stopped at a tavern and tried “Mackay's Epic Single Malt”, they brought back three bottles to celebrate with the next time Maric returned to Denerim. 

Tomas, finally having caught up with his prince, was at Alistair’s side, holding the young man in a tight hug. If anyone was bothered by the familiarity, they did not show it. 

The city mourned for almost a month. Not only had Maric been a fine king, but he had brought Ferelden back to the Theirin line after the Orlesian Occupation. 

Cailan quickly bounced back, at least outwardly, as there was still a kingdom to run. Alistair moped around for awhile, despite numerous efforts to pull him from it. His grand plans to help the people he met on his trip home was put on hold. 

Despite everything, all Alistair wanted to do was talk to Livia about it, she had surely heard by now; the whole country had, but not even a polite letter in her hand reached his desk. The Couslands sent their regards of course, Bryce even came to the service in Denerim, but all Alistair wanted was to have her at his side again. 

\--

In Highever, Livia debated on sending word to Alistair directly. She wanted to, her father even invited her to accompany him to Denerim, but Alistair didn’t need to see her in his darkest moment. She didn’t know how she would handle the inevitable deaths of her parents, and doubted she would want to hear from someone who broke her heart. She stayed silent, spending time in the Chantry to pray for King Maric, his sons, and his country he left behind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel like the story is coming along quite nicely! Lots more to come!


	6. Too Many Princes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An introduction!  
to characters we won't see again for many,  
many,  
many,  
chapters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ostwick  
Cloudreach 9:28 Dragon

Livia smiled with polite interest as men came up to chat with her. She sipped her wine slowly, and nodded at the right moment, eventually allowing them to lose interest and walk off.

Why she allowed her mother to talk her into coming to this salon was beyond her. At least the air smelled like the sea. 

For the better part of the last year she wandered her home like a ghost. It irritated her how hung up over Alistair she still was. Several times she tried to write to him, always feeling fed up and embarrassed with herself and throwing the note away.

Yet standing in the gardens while Free Marchers, a pretentious lot if you’d ever seen one, tried to talk with her about her dress or hair or accent. She smiled faintly thinking of her first meeting with Alistair. He asked her about history and then listened. He didn’t run off when she talked about sword-play or when wandering the forests near her home.

He joined her in training, in running and swimming and eventually…  _ Stop _ , Livia chided herself. This wasn’t helping anyone, least of all her. Mother told her,  _ you never forget your first love. _ At least she hadn’t been patronizing about it. 

Feeling eyes on her, she tilted her gaze and found the owner. Stark blue eyes under a mop of thick brown hair caught her eyes and he raised his goblet. She nodded and he smiled, making his way over to her.

“What’s your weapon of choice?” he started, reaching her side.

She raised an eyebrow, mildly impressed, yet waiting to see where the conversation might lead. If he said anything about his polearm… she was ready to break a nose.

“I personally prefer to use a bow,” he offered, not getting much out of her. Livia was mentally kicking herself, here was this handsome man with a lovely Starkhaven accent, asking about something other than fashion and she was acting cold.

“Sword and dagger,” Livia finally answered.

“Sebastian,” he stated tilting his goblet.

“Livia,” she replied clinking her goblet to his. “So Sebastian, what brings you here?”

“My parents though I was bad for the family so they shipped me off the Chantry. I escaped and now I wander the Free Marches looking for lovely ladies,” he leaned in, whispering the last part in her ear, his breath tickling the soft hairs behind her ear. 

Livia scoffed but felt a light blush creep up her neck.

“What’s this then, the Maker’s work?” Livia laughed lightly.

Sebastian shrugged, “Could be.” He grinned and leaned into her, brushing his lips across the base of her jaw.

Livia shivered and closed her eyes.

_ This is fine. This is good. Alistair and I are over. I should see other people,  _ she told herself.

“Shall we go somewhere more private?” he whispered huskily in her ear.

Livia could only nod and slammed back the rest of her goblet, hoping the wine would loosen her up.

Sebastian nodded and took her hand leading them away from the people and the party.

Livia trailed after him hesitantly, truly unsure how she felt about this. It was so fast. Alistair always asked her, always checked in with her to see how she was feeling. Eventually she had to tell him to stop, while cute, it also slowed down their actions after they had gotten to a point where they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

Then she turned him down. Then she said no.She shook her head and forced on a smile. This was fine. This was good.

He led her through hallways, past servants, upstairs until finally they reached the destination.He stopped and placed a hand on the doorknob before opening with flourish. It seemed to be a storage room, boxes and crates stacked against the walls, extra furniture covered in sheets.

There was giggling and then a gasp, as two heads appeared from a couch.

Sebastian smirked, and the first head glared back.

“Seb, occupied,” he grunted. Livia immediate met eyes with him, a piercing light green, almost gold in the light of the setting sun. His strawberry blonde hair was tied back, framing his massive jawline and strong chin.

A second head popped up, a lithe and narrow face with bright blue eyes, and Livia realized it was an elf.

Sebastian just leaned against the doorframe and yawned.

The man rolled his eyes, standing up and straightening his shirt. The elf following suit. That’s when Livia realized the elf was another male and she blushed at the thought.

“It is your party, Harri,” Sebastian reminded him.

Livia’s eyes widen with realization; this was Harri Trevelyan. First born to the Teyrn of Ostwick and a notable swordsman even so young.

Harri gave a gentlemanly smile to Livia, a rude hand gesture to Sebastian, and took the hand of his elf companion leading him out the door.

With the door closed, Sebastian’s eyes clouded with lust and he stepped towards Livia, placing his arms on either side of her, trapping her between him and the wall.

Livia gave her best sultry look, though inside she only felt anxiety.

Sebastian leaned in and kissed her, his lips soft and tasting faintly of something fruity. He captured her bottom lip between his teeth and pulled gently.

Livia gasped and allowed her body to react, pressing into his firm chest.

Sebastian started moving backwards, pulling Livia with him and lead her to the couch that was so recently occupied.

He let himself fall backwards, bringing Livia down on top of him, their lips still locked.

The kiss finally broke, Livia looked down with half-lidded eyes, his piercing blue ones gazing back at her.

Unable to control herself, large tears began to fall down her face, causing Sebastian to immediately sit up in a panic.

“Hey, whoa, hey, hey, hey,” he tried to calm her down pulling his body away from hers. He looked frantically around the room while Livia sobbed, pulling her knees to her chest.

He settled for just sitting next to her, his hands folded in his lap, staring straight ahead.

Livia finally calmed, her eyes puffy and tired, her body heavy and sore feeling. She looked up at the young man beside her and sighed, dropping her head in shame.

“I’m sorry,” she began with a sniffle, “I was almost engaged, and you’re the first man since… well since him ever. I didn’t mean to frighten you. You did nothing wrong,” she finished with a weak smile.

Sebastian nodded stiffly, still unsure how to handle this situation.

“How about I get you a glass of water, and a towel for your face and we can rejoin the party.” He said every word very carefully.

Livia nodded, running her hands over her face, rubbing her tears into her skin. Sebastian stood quickly and practically ran for the door, leaving Livia alone with her thoughts.

Livia curled back up, wrapping her arms around her knees in embarrassment. It had almost been a year, why wasn’t she over him yet? She was the one who left him, the one who wanted adventure and craved excitement. She sat in her regret not noticing the host of the party entering the room.

She finally snapped out of her mind and back to reality when he sat on the couch next to her, his body lax and spread out, demanding space.

“I don’t believe we were properly introduced. I’m Harri Trevelyan.” His voice was deep and smooth, very different to the Starkhaven accent Sebastian had.

Livia lowered her head in embarrassment, “Livia Cousland of Highever.”

Harri chuckled low, “I know who you are. I do believe my mother wished us to meet and match tonight. This whole party was to find me a suitable wife. A lady from Ferelden with a lord from the Free Marches would create quite the strong alliance. But as you’ve seen, women don’t do much for me.”

Livia blushed remembering the flushed look of the elven man, his delicate face and stunning eyes.

Harri watched her curiously. “Surely you aren’t offended by boys liking other boys.”

Livia scoffed, “You are hardly a boy,” she gulped looking up and down his wide body. He wore a simple shirt and jacket, a bit light for the cool sea breeze, but it hugged tightly around his muscles of which he had plenty. This train of thought derailed her attempt to prove her open mindedness as she stared blankly at the young lord.

Harri threw his head back in laughter, not unaware of his affect on people, just as Sebastian came back into the room with a goblet in one hand and a towel in the other.

“Seducing my guest, Lord Trevelyan?” Sebastian asked, moving to hand the items to Livia.

Livia gratefully took the goblet, downing the water in a few desperate gulps and rubbed the towel over her face.

Harri stood, bowing slightly to Livia before answering Sebastian, “Oh, Lord Vael, you know you are much more my type,” Harri whispered leaning into the archer. Sebastian blushed and shied away, losing all of his cool in a single moment.

Harri chuckled again and left the room calling back to them, “Enjoy the rest of the party. I’m sure we will meet again.”

_ Vael. Vael.  _ Livia murmured to herself. 

“You’re Prince Sebastian Vael,” she finally remembered in an accusing tone.

Sebastian bowed his head, his face still pinked from Harri’s words.

“Hardly,” he scoffed. “I was an embarrassment. Still am. My parents had their heir, their spare, and then me. I have been written off.”

“I have a thing with princes,” Livia explained, “I just… no. Thank you Sebastian for an evening. I should be returning to my mother now.” Livia stood quickly, bowed her head and briskly walked away.

Sebastian looked after her, completely confused by the events and sighed, laying back on the couch. What in the Maker’s name was he to do with himself? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated version!


	7. A New Warden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duncan decides to visit his birthtown of Highever and leaves with an unexpected new recruit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Highever  
Harvestmere 9:29 Dragon

“Pup,” Livia paused hearing her father’s voice and walked backwards to the main hall entrance, peering in. Bryce beckoned to his daughter who promptly entered and stood at attention. 

There was a man Livia didn’t recognize, but he looked like a warrior of some sort and she could feel his eyes quickly travel down her body. 

Let him look, she thought; she felt no shame in her appearance. Livia had spent the better part of her time after Alistair’s proposal to work on her blade skills. She tried learning to work with a shield, but found it to be clunky and slow. A sword in her right and dagger in her left allowed her quick but often powerful movements, and the training had toned her body, hard but flexible.

“This is Duncan of the Grey Wardens. He was stopping by for a visit but I thought you might enjoy meeting him. Brother Aldous taught you who the Grey Wardens are, I hope?”

Livia softened her stance, and nodded, “They’re an order of great warriors who defeated the darkspawn long ago.”

“Not permanently, I fear,” Duncan finally spoke. His voice was warm and calming and Livia took a turn to look him over. 

His outfit was strange, with the long robes going to his ankles. But the unmistakable hilts of a dagger and sword intrigued her. She was mostly self taught as most of the soldiers under her father’s command used shields or only daggers. This Grey Warden could hopefully teach her a thing or two. 

“Duncan is headed south to heed rumors of a darkspawn horde gathering. He stopped by to see if we had anyone willing to recruit. Ser Gilmore, I think, would make a fine candidate,” Bryce offered. 

“If I might be so bold, I would suggest your daughter is also an excellent candidate,” Duncan suggested, a lightness to his voice. 

“Honor though that might be, this is my daughter we are talking about.” Bryce moved between Duncan and Livia protectively. 

Duncan chuckled, “I have no interest in pushing the matter. Merely a thought.” 

Livia peaked around her father making eye contact with both men. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t join them?”

“Livie…” Bryce began. 

“I could see the world, protect my home, train my skills. This is exactly what we had talked about me doing!”

“I will not have this conversation now. You are dismissed.”

“Father…”

“Livia. Now.”

Livia bowed to Duncan, then her father and tried to stop herself from stomping out of the hall. She was pissed off and feeling childish. Father hadn’t dismissed her like that ,since she was a child! She was twenty-one now and after Alistair, hadn’t even thought of being with anyone. Father had put up with it for awhile, but lately he had been testy with her; sharply asking when she would grow up and move on. Pushing even the idea of one of Rendon Howe’s sons on her. 

She tried to understand where he was coming from, with Fergus having found Oriana and having Oren, Livia assumed her father wanted her to have a family as well, but that no longer interested her. She was a warrior and wanted to prove herself as such. Being a Grey Warden would let her live that life and shed that of a castle’s lady. 

Livia went into the forest, as she often did when she needed to think. The trees and ocean were her refuge; a place to contemplate and reflect. She knew it was foolish of her to have held on for so long; the idea that maybe one day her and Alistair could be together. But no one else had captured her the way he did. If she could leave her tiny part of the world, that could change too. Her thoughts wandered between the warrior she wanted to be and the lady she was expected to be, only breaking free when the chill of the setting sun pulled her from her reverie. 

She returned to the castle, quickly stopping by her room to wash her face, and to smooth things over with her father switched into a simple gown instead of her leathers. She quickly retwisted her hair and gave herself a glance in the mirror before leaving her room. 

If nothing else, maybe Duncan could teach her something new and she could revisit the idea of travelling with her father at a later date. 

Bryce had forgiven and forgotten by the time Livia joined him, Eleanor, Fergus, Oriana, and Duncan at the dinner table. The wine was flowing and Fergus was telling a grand story of one of his many heroics. 

Livia quietly sat down, digging into her meal having heard the story many times. 

Bryce chimed in with one of his tales from the Orelsian occupation, and Livia studied the Grey Warden. 

He was wearing his robes but had removed the breast plate and belts that held his weapons to his back, but his body language read that he was ready for action. Livia tried copying the stance, even while sitting and eating and found her back tensing under the position. Practice would hopefully make it less uncomfortable. 

The meal finished will little to speak of and the plates were quickly cleared, replaced with tea and some new cake Nan had been working on; apparently based on a recipe Oriana knew from Antiva. 

They said their goodnights and Bryce asked if Livia would show Duncan to the room prepared for his stay. 

Duncan gestured his hand for Livia to lead the way and they walked the stone floors, every guard nodding his head to Livia with a “Good evening, my lady.”

Livia barely registered them; this was just her life, and how she craved for something different.

“Duncan,” Livia paused outside his room, “could we meet later to discuss dual-wielding? I haven’t had proper training in some time and would like your input.”

Duncan nodded, “Of course Lady Cousland. How does tomorrow morning in the barracks sound?”

Livia grinned widely and nodded, “Thank you, Duncan.”

“Goodnight,” he gave a final nod and walked into the room, closing the door behind him. 

Livia practically skipped to her room, shutting the door behind her and pulling her weapons off the rack. She examined the blades carefully making sure they were clean and sharp for tomorrow’s training. 

\------

When she woke in the morning, the sun barely starting to light the skies, Livia put on her most worn armor, knowing she moved best in it, and brought her blades to her back. She pulled her hair back out of her face into a low bun and left the room, Steel barely registering her. 

Duncan found her in the barrack’s yard, striking a wooden dummy with both blades. 

He watched for a moment, her striking quick and almost delicate. Her foot work was strong enough, but she would quickly draw back, attacking from a different angle. It was hard to find what school of training she wanted to focus on. 

His footsteps on the sand grabbed Livia’s attention, and before she could let out a greeting, Duncan moved forward, his own two blades at the ready. 

Livia parried quickly, moving backwards and was soon pinned between Duncan and the castle wall. 

She looked nervously around before ducking, sweeping her left blade out, which he quickly blocked and kept the chase on. 

They kept at this till the sun was clearly risen, Livia covered in small nicks and bruises, while Duncan wasn’t even out of breath. 

He pinned her again, this time into a corner and he wanted to see what she would do next. She looked around carefully, leaping straight up and kicking the wall behind her, trying to get air over him, but didn’t get enough and slammed into his chest, their blades falling out of their hands. 

Duncan let out a chuckle and pushed himself on his arms, Livia’s legs tangled in his. 

She blushed and pushed herself away, scrambling to stand up, and tucked her fallen hair back behind her ear. 

She reached her hand down to him, and despite not needing it, took the offered hand and let her help pull him up. 

“That was quite impressive, Lady Cousland. Not many could hold their own against a Grey Warden.”

Livia blushed deeper, more embarrassed than flattered. “Duncan, you needn’t lie. I know you held back. Wouldn’t want to anger your host by harming his daughter.”

Duncan smiled, “Confidence can change a battle. Doubt is one of your biggest weaknesses. I pushed only as hard as I knew you could handle.”

Livia smiled weakly, “Yet I’m untrained and need guidance. So tell me what I did wrong and how I can better it.”

“What has your training been thus far? I sense sword and shield training, but also rogue training. Your weapon style could go either way, but you need to pick warrior or rogue to truly learn more.”

Livia thought on this for a moment. She loved the finesse of the rogue; sharp, quick movements, and vanishing before her foe could strike back. But she also loved being in the middle of the fray, with powerful swings that struck heavier blows. 

“Could we just go over the basics? I haven’t had anyone to train with in months.”

Duncan was surprised by this information. Her form, albeit confused, wasn’t sloppy or lax. If this was all her working by herself, she would be a demon on the field with proper training. 

Duncan nodded, and set back up in position, his blades drawn and at the ready. 

Livia grinned, brandishing her sword and dagger and took the first lunge forward. 

They sparred late into the morning, often with a small audience of guards or knights. Lord Cousland even watched a couple of matches, and knew he would not be able to keep Livia in Highever for much longer. He wasn’t thrilled by the idea of his daughter being a Warden, but he had a feeling that if this is what she wanted, he wouldn’t be able to say no again. 

When they finally broke for lunch, Livia was covered in dirt, sweat and blood. Duncan had been impressed by her stamina, a sheen of sweat finally broken over his face. Livia had gotten in a few solid blows, strikes that would have left large bruises and a nasty scar had he not been a Warden. 

Grudgingly, Nan brought out bread, cheese, and water to them on the dirt, claiming they were too dirty to come inside. Livia gratefully stuffed a roll full of cheese into her mouth, not noticing that Duncan was doing the same. 

“Duncan,” Livia began, and Duncan had a fair idea what was to come next, “I want to join the Wardens. I need this. I need the training and the purpose. Conscript me or whatever so my father cannot protest. I need this,” she repeated her eyes sincere and determined. 

Duncan internally groaned. She would be a perfect recruit. Livia was young, skilled and eager for battle, but the Wardens could not risk angering nobility, especially someone has high as Teryn Cousland. 

Before Duncan could turn her down, Lord Cousland entered their line of sight and stood before them. He looked pained, but gave his daughter a soft smile. 

“You can join the Wardens, Pup. I won’t stop you,” he smiled a bit wider, a tear rolling down his cheek. 

Livia leapt up, and drew her father into a hug, squeezing him tightly. 

“Just come home and visit when you can,” pulling his only daughter close. Livia nodded into his shoulder, her body shaking. 

When they pulled away, Livia had tears on her cheeks and a giant grin on her face contrasting her father’s ashened face and shaky breathing. 

“Go say goodbye. You’d come home to my corpse if you didn’t see your mother before you left.”

“Lord Cousland,” Duncan began, rising to stand, “We don’t have to leave right away. We can stay another night or two…” but Bryce was already shaking his head. 

“Take her. Take my youngest and only daughter. And keep her safe. Teach her everything you can so she will be safe and do not make me regret this, Duncan. If she stays, I will change my mind and have the King banish your order from these lands again.” Bryce’s voice was shaky but severe and Duncan had no doubt Bryce meant every word with a fierce conviction. 

Livia took this as her exit, and ran through the courtyard back into the castle. 

The men stood in silence for nearly an hour, watching the courtyard go about its day.

Livia returned to the yard, Steel at her side and a small pack on her back. 

Duncan couldn’t help but laugh; eager didn’t begin to describe the young woman in front of him.

Bryce dropped his face into his hand, holding back a sob. The courtyard quickly filled. Knights, guards, servants, the Chantry ministry, Fergus, Oriana, Oren and Lady Cousland all to see the young Lady of Highever off. 

Lady Eleanor’s face was tightened up and red from crying, but her face was dry now and she glared at her husband. 

Fergus stood proudly with his wife and child, thrilled for his little sister. 

Livia hugged each of her family members tightly, her eyes starting to water. 

“Thank you…” she whispered when she once again hugged her father. He nodded and squeezed his little Pup tight. 

The knights and guards saluted their lady, and the Chantry ministry began the Chant of Benedictions:

“ _ Blessed are they who stand before _

_ The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. _

_ Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just. _

_ Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. _

_ In their blood the Maker's will is written. _ ”

Livia bowed deeply to her parents, now together and holding onto each other tightly. 

Duncan bowed to the Teryn and Teryna as well; this was no small sacrifice, but it never was. 

Livia turned away first, tears streaming down her face, Steel looking concerned at her side. Duncan followed, a turmoil of regret and hope bubbling in his gut. 

He had no intention of seeking a recruit here, and definitely had not planned on taking the Lord Cousland’s daughter, but he couldn’t help but feel pleased with the turn of events. Livia would make a fine Warden, possibly one of the best, and she was coming as a choice and not an escape, as so many Wardens before her did. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to go a different route based on some later chapters, and made Livia the first one recruited, with Ikal Surana has the new recruit. My intention for the new year is about three chapters a month; every ten days or so! Comments help me a lot, so please leave one if you can! I have also lost my beta to the ether, but will sit on chapters forever if I don't greenlight them. If there is any major spelling/grammar, please let me know!


	8. Ostagar Origins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ikal and Livia finally meet at Ostagar. I'm sure they will have a great time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ostagar  
August 9:30 Dragon

Livia sighed while the mage in front of her prattled on. She hadn’t expected to play messenger while waiting for the newest recruit, but when the revered mother asked, Livia still felt a certain level of Chantry-guilt and said she would do it. Little did she know, the mother had intended Livia’s presence as an insult to the mage, though Livia felt anything said to this man would have offended him.

“Yes, I was harassing you by delivering a message,” she chided.

“Your glibness does you no credit,” he snarked.

Livia looked over the man’s shoulder already bored with their conversation, another mage coming up the ramp to her little space in camp.

Livia smirked, “And here I thought we were getting along so well…”

“Enough!” he interrupted, “I will speak with the woman if I must.” He turned to leave, surprised by the newest arrival in their vicinity, “Get out of my way, fool!” he snapped.

Livia smiled to the new comer. His robes said Circle Mage, but the stark white hair, ear tips poking out from the long braided hair and piercing green eyes told her this was Duncan’s newest recruit. He already looked more interesting than Ser Jory and Daveth, but more importantly, his arrival meant they could get out into the Wilds and Livia was getting stir crazy staying in the camp.

“You know, the greatest thing about the Blight is how it brings people together,” she introduced with. 

The new recruit’s eyes widen and he let out a strangled laugh.

“You’re a very strange woman,” he managed, his voice soft but strong.

Livia shrugged, “I’ve gotten that a few times. Livia. You must be Duncan’s newest recruit.” She stuck her hand out which Ikal took confidently.

“Ikal. How did you know? I’ve seen quite a few other Circle Mages here.”

“The hair and eyes. And we don’t have a lot of elves here that aren’t servants.”

“Aren’t there any other elven Wardens?”

“Not that I’ve met. But most of them are down in the valley. I’ve been here mostly alone with the other two recruits. Have you met them yet?”

Ikal nodded, “I ran into Daveth while I was gathering some supplies. He’s… nice,” Ikal struggled to say something kind about the man.

“He’s a bit of a lecher, but his shot is solid and he’s competent with daggers. We can go find Ser Jory and then meet back up with Duncan.”

Ikal nodded again and fell in line with Livia as she started to walk away.

“How long have you been in the Circle? I knew a girl who was sent when she was about ten I think. Phoebe Amell I believe… Did you know her?” Livia fired off immediately. 

“It’s all I’ve ever known. I’m not sure if I was born in an Alienage or even born in the Circle.” Ikal paused as Livia quickly told Daveth to head to Duncan before they made their way up another ramp to what looked to be a small field hospital and a priest with some soldiers.

“As for a Phoebe Amell… short brown hair? I believe we took some lessons together, but I did not know her well. There were rumors that she was romantically involved with one of the Templars, Cullen. He was always kind to me.”

Livia raised an eyebrow, “That’s a lot to unpack I must say,” she chuckled. “Secret trysts between Templar and Mage. Children stolen from their homes. Kind Templars. So far the mages I have spoken to here are either angry or dumb.”

“Dumb?” Ikal asked.

“Whatever your people call it. Tranquil, I guess. Very unnerving.”

Ikal nodded solemnly in agreement. He knew quite a few Tranquil and while they were always helpful, the empty eyes and cold voices terrified him as a potential fate before his Harrowing. He understood why Jowan turned to blood magic; even if he didn’t agree with him in the end.

“Ser Jory,” Livia called out, getting a murderous look from the sister preaching the Chant, “This is the last recruit, Ikal. We can head over to Duncan now.”

The large man with an even larger sword nodded and saluted the Sister before walking towards them. Ikal looked around and caught the eye of a mostly naked man in a hanging cage.

“You go ahead, I want to check something really quick,” he told Livia before walking to the prisoner.

Livia nodded to Ser Jory and followed Ikal, staying a few feet back.

The conversation was brief, quickly followed by a short chat with a guard and then an exchange between Ikal and the prisoner.

“Anything good?” Livia asked as Ikal tucked something into his robes.

“Nothing important,” Ikal said quickly, straightening his clothes.

Livia shrugged and the two returned to the Warden fire where Duncan, Daveth and Jory were waiting.

An easy enough task. Three vials of darkspawn blood and an old cache of documents. Livia held her hand forward for the new recruits to lead the way and Ikal quickly realized he was the head of the pack.

They reached the gate and the guard started to open it giving them a warning:

“I’ve been told you have business in the Wilds, but remember the area is still teaming with Darkspawn, be careful out there, the light is fading fast.”

They walked through the gate, the heavy pieces of wood slamming shut behind them. Ikal jumped slightly, hoping no one noticed as they walked down the path into the swampy wilderness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first came up with this idea, I knew Livia would still become a Warden and I would need someone to replace Alistair. Little did I know it would be Livia! Ikal was pretty quickly chosen to be the second Warden (whether senior or junior), and as I was writing it just made so much sense for him to be the junior instead. It helped clear up a weird loophole I created for myself much later in the story. 
> 
> Ostagar is a pretty big moment since we've now hit DAO timeline. I have chapters written as far as 9:40 Dragon, so we've got ten years to get through, and I'm guessing now, about 17-20 chapters just to get us to Urthemiel's defeat in 9:31. This is going to be a long one, so buckle up and enjoy. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	9. Korcari Wilds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let us go into the Wilds.   
We seek three vials, full of hate and blight.   
We seek three treaties, to make allies and fight.   
Come follow me now, into these Wilds of mine.   
If you tell me your name, I shall tell you mine.

Livia breathed in the damp air. She was sick of the smell of the kennels, the noise from the soldiers, and the leering that often followed. Most knew to leave her alone. They either respected her enough as a Warden and warrior, or they had learned the hard way with a broken finger or nose. 

Duncan told her to keep it in check; that they all had to get along, but Livia had little patience to deal with the young men that made up most of the armies. 

Once past the gate to the Wilds, Ikal seemed to take a natural lead and Livia let him; this was part of the Joining even if it wasn’t official; seeing who was ready to lead. Livia had quickly taken over her cohort, leading the other two recruits while Duncan was nearby. Their group had been the newest recruits through Duncan in almost two years. With no major threat of darkspawn at the time, recruiting was slow and often ignored by most. 

Livia had been the only woman in her group, along with a young Chasind who had been accused of murder and a minor lord’s fourth son, who in the end, never made it through his Joining. 

She hoped all three of these would make it; they all seemed capable enough. 

Ikal quickly lead the group after some wolves; who were fierce and numerous in this area. Lightning shot from his staff, sending shock waves through the beasts. Stunned, Daveth snuck up behind them and quickly dispatched three. While Jory swung his large blade in a wide arch taking the rest out. 

Livia watched impressed, never even having to draw her blades. 

They soon came upon a wounded soldier, and Ikal was quick to offer to return him back to the camp. Livia smiled at his kindness; but worried for the mage that someone would take advantage of it. The soldier denied the aid and Livia pulled some bandages from her pack and sent him on his way. 

“An entire patrol of seasoned men taken out by darkspawn!” Jory started, his voice startled, and his eyes darting around quickly. 

Livia rolled her eyes, “Relax, Ser Jory. We’ll be fine as long as we are careful.”

“Those soldiers were careful and they were still overwhelmed. How many darkspawn can the four of us slay? A dozen? A hundred? There’s an entire army in these forests!”

“Yes, but we are in no danger of walking into the bulk of the horde. This area is relatively safe.”

“How do you know? I’m no coward but this is foolish and reckless. We should go back.”

Damn, Livia thought, Jory wouldn’t make it with this attitude. Duncan was right when they first met, confidence was everything out here. 

“Overcoming these dangers is part of our test,” Ikal interrupted.

“That’s… true,” Jory admitted. 

“Know this: All Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn. Whatever cunning they might possess, I’m here to make sure we won’t get taken by surprise,” Livia stated very matter of fact. 

She remembered the first time she saw them. Humans twisted horribly, their mouths full of jagged teeth, skin rotting off their faces. She shivered. Knowing she could focus and _feel_ them just out there made her skin crawl. 

“You see, ser knight? We might die, but we’ll be warned about it first,” Daveth said jokingly, though there was a slight tremor in his voice.

Livia really hoped Daveth would make it. While their initial meeting hadn’t been stellar, he at least had the mindset for this position. 

“That is… reassuring?” Jory concluded. 

“Yes, well, we should get a move on. There are some darkspawn not far from here. You still need three vials of blood. I’m not here to make this easier for you.”

Despite the new information, Ikal seemed to have no issues marching forward, stopping to check out plants, and finding notes in the weeds of the wilds. 

“I think the kennel master is seeking a flower of that description,” Daveth remarked as Ikal picked a white flower with a deep orange center. 

“It just looked useful. What would the kennel master want with it?”

“Probably something for the hounds that ingested darkspawn blood,” Livia offered. “He might even offer you a dog if you can help. Mabari are wonderful creatures, I don’t know if you got to meet mine, Steel. He really is a force of nature, so if you can get one to imprint on you, you’ll have a lifelong companion.” 

Ikal nodded in thanks and tucked the flower carefully in his robes. 

“You ought to be careful, just as easily these flowers can spit poison as heal someone,” Daveth warned. But he warned about everything in the wilds. The air made you sleepy, the ground would swallow you whole, Chasind and demons ready in every bed of grass. 

They kept on, unsure of the time with how foggy the air was, taking out small groups of darkspawn scattered throughout the area. They had more than enough blood, but still needed to find the cache. 

Another larger group taken out when Ikal suddenly stopped in a small clearing. They were quickly ambushed by some genlock rogues, who were easily taken out, before Ikal kneeled by a fallen log and started digging in it. He grunted before pulling out a large sack in a satisfied noise. 

“Look at this!” He exclaimed, before sticking his hand back in and pulling out a large hammer. They came over to the sack as Ikal pulled out a set of robes, a helmet, mace, and bow. 

“Nice find!” Daveth praised, examining the bow carefully, before slinging it over his shoulder. Ikal was looking over the robes eagerly before pulling off his Circle robes, and sliding into the new robes. The heavy fur would protect against the cold, and the shorter skirt allowed for more movement. He flexed his arms getting comfortable in the gear, giving his companions a silly grin. 

They packed as much as they could into their various packs to sell or trade and continued on. Just over the horizon what looked like a ruined tower stood and was hopefully their final stop. 

Livia stood watch as Ikal approached the chest, kicking the latest batch of dead darkspawn, seeing if anything good would fall off on its own. The whole looting corpses thing still felt a bit weird. She knew the dead didn’t need their possessions, but as a Cousland, she had never been for want and the idea of taking it off a dead person much less getting intentionally closer to a darkspawn had little appeal. 

Ikal bent down to the chest, already doubting the cache would be there since the chest was smashed to pieces. Confirming it was empty, he stood to call Livia over, when Livia tensed and a voice called out. 

“Well, well, what have we here?” 

Daveth stood back notching an arrow to his bow, Jory with his sword in his hand, and both of Livia’s blades at the ready. 

Ikal watched as the young woman in her, rather skimpy clothes, came down the ramp of the ruined tower. He could feel the magic around her surge and spark, and her yellow, almost cat like eyes, gave him a rush. 

“Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?” She continued walking till she was in front of them, everyone seemingly stunned by her appearance. 

“What say you, hmm? Scavenger of intruder?”

“We are neither,” Livia spoke up. “The Grey Wardens once owned this tower.”

“Tis a tower no longer. I have watched your progress for sometime. ‘Where do they go,’ I wondered, ‘Why are they here?’”

“She’s a Witch of the Wild’s she is! She’ll turn us all into toads,” Daveth said, a panic creeping into his voice. 

“She does have magic, but shapeshifting is not an easy magic to project on others. Fireball? Sure. Swarm of stinging insects? Easy. But turning you into a toad is probably not worth the energy,” Ikal explained getting a strange look from his companions, while a smile played out on the stranger’s face. 

“You do not frighten like a little boy and recognize magic most have forgotten. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine.”

“I am Ikal, and these are my companions. Ser Jory, Daveth, and Livia. It’s a pleasure,” Ikal said smoothly. 

“Now that is a proper civil greeting, even here in the Wilds. You may call me Morrigan. Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that chest, something that is here no longer?”

“We are Wardens and seek the treaties,” Livia responded “We want them back.”

Morrigan cocked her head to the side. “You would have to ask the person who took them, for it was not me.”

Livia rolled her eyes. “Do you know who took them?”

“Yes.”

Livia huffed. This was beyond irritating. She was covered in mud, sweat, darkspawn goo, and probably some of her own blood and in no mood for this. The sun had nearly set and they still needed to get back to camp. At least everything in their way should be dead now.

“Could you take us to them?” Ikal quickly asked, seeing Livia tense up with irritation. 

“Alright. Follow, if you must.”

Livia hissed between her teeth. Just one quick move and she could stab Morrigan in the back of the neck and call it a day. But they needed the treaties. Duncan hadn’t been super forth coming with the reason, but he never was, yet he wasn’t one to send them on a wild goose chase. 

Morrigan turned on her heels, and the rest followed, Ikal’s face blushed as he watched her from behind. 

They traveled a short distance, before Morrigan suddenly stopped in an empty clearing. Before anyone could ask, she waved her hand and a small hut seemed to appear from nowhere. 

“There are Grey Wardens to see you, Mother,” Morrigan called out to a kneeled figure. The figure stood, and examined the group carefully. 

“I can see that, girl.” She looked Livia and Ikal over, her eyes resting heavily between the two of them before landing on Livia. “I take it you are here for your treaties.”

Livia replied with a curt nod, and Morrigan’s mother produced a stack of papers from a pouch on her side as if she knew they would be needed. 

Livia examined them quickly and put them in her own pouch. 

“Thanks for the help. Let’s go.” She said turning on her heels and without looking to see if the others were following. 

“Have you no questions?” Morrigan’s mother piqued. 

Livia stopped and turned back on her heel facing the old woman. “About? I assume you found them, knew their purpose, took them and now have decided to return them. You could have left them at the camp, but so be it. We’re here. We have them. We need to go.”

The older woman cackled. “It will be a great pleasure to meet again, Young Warden. Morrigan, be a dear and take them back to camp.”

Morrigan gave a sneering smile, but swung her arm out, “After you…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. Sorry this is late. Not my favorite chapter to work on and so it is a bit short. At least I like the little poem for the summary. Trying to find my voice and a new beta. Does everyone want to see the Joining and Tower of Ishal? Should we jump straight to Lothering? I've got some stuff that should be up sooner. Still want to get three chapters in this month. Eleven days and only two more to go!


	10. Long Live the King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He would've risked it all  
He wanted to heed the call  
This was the last attempt  
But as he turned to go  
Broken voice cuts through the cord  
This ain't how it ends"  
-Take Me Apart/SYML

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Denerim-August 9:30 Dragon

When the news reached Denerim, Alistair went numb. He waved off the messenger, Anora frozen next to him at the table where they had been enjoying lunch together. 

They had only a brief moment of letting the news settle in, when the chamberlain entered in the deep bow. 

“Your Highness, I know this news brings the country grief, but we need a King on the throne, you are next in line sire…”

“Ferelden has a queen,” Anora snapped. “Who do you think has been ruling this country all these years?”

The man cowered in his bow, bringing himself even lower to the floor.

“Yes, Your Highness, but while there is an heir of Maric alive, he has the right to the throne.”

Alistair had still not said a word, trying to process all the information being given to him. 

“Alistair?” Anora asked, her shock replaced with a mixture of anger and concern. “We don’t have to decide this right now. I can continue to rule and when or if you are ready, we can talk about it…” 

Alistair’s head swam. He lost Livia, he lost his father, and now Cailan. Alistair sat up straighter in the chair. He would not lose Ferelden. He would keep his country safe, and the first step was to take the throne and stop the darkspawn horde.

“I will take my father’s throne. What armies do we have left?”

Anora looked shocked but kept silent. The chamberlain narrowed his eyes at her and stood straight. 

“The report states that General Loghain survived the battle. We are not sure who all has been loss.”

“Find out as soon as possible and send Loghain to me the minute he returns to Denerim.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. When shall we have the coronation?”

“We wait a week, proper time of mourning for my brother. Anora and I can handle it together till then. Please inform the lords and ladies.”

The chamberlain bowed his head and backed out of the room, leaving Alistair and Anora alone again. 

Anora sat up straight and looked over at her brother-in-law. It wasn’t that she didn’t think he could handle it, but she really had been Ferelden’s ruler for the past three or so years. The people loved her, she ruled just and fair. She knew the rumors of her being barren were also circulating, which made her nervous, but based on Cailan’s extra-curricular activities, maybe the blame fell to him. Could she convince Alistair to marry her, maybe nothing would have to change. 

Alistair had quickly jumped into action, his plate pushed away and a paper and quill in front of him as he started writing. He would mourn properly later, but a King was lost in a battle, and Alistair needed to know why. If the threat was larger than anyone imagined, they would need more troops and fast, to fend it off. 

And if this was more than a large horde… Maric told his sons enough, that Alistair knew the Grey Wardens might be Ferelden’s only chance to survive. 

\-----

Loghain entered Denerim and was met by a single guard on horseback. 

“General Loghain. His Majesty requested your presence the moment you return, sir.”

His? Loghain thought. He assumed Anora would be ruling now, despite Alistair being Cailan’s brother. Ferelden had always been a bit laxer on the whole dynasty thing, and seemed to keep Theirin’s on the throne almost more so out of ceremony. The country had just been lucky that Theirins did make good rulers, for the most part. 

Loghain nodded and left his troops to Ser Cauthrien, following quickly behind the guard through the city. 

The city was still in mourning, women wailing in the streets, the Chantry bells going off nonstop, but most people seemed ready to get on with their lives. It wasn’t that the people didn’t cherish King Cailan, but there were rumors of murderous Grey Wardens, as well as a horde of darkspawn, and even that didn’t stop the laundry from needing to be done. 

After leaving the horses in the stables, Loghain was quickly escorted to the throne room, where Alistair, Anora and Mother Perpetua stood waiting. 

“Father!” Anora let out, breaking her usual composer and rushing to her father. 

He hugged her gently, still in his full armor and kissed her forehead.

“How are you, my darling?”

Anora’s eyes were filled with tears and Loghain felt a pang of guilt. 

“That was a stupid question. I am sorry about Cailan,” he corrected. 

“General Loghain,” Mother Perpetua gestured with her hand and Loghain and Anora parted, walking back towards Alistair. 

Alistair kneeled down, and the chamberlain came forward with a simple golden crown, handing it to the Mother.

She held the crown in her left hand and waved her right over his head announcing to the rather small crowd, “In the name of the Maker and the Chant of Light, rise King Alistair Therin of Ferelden. Long may he reign!” and placed the crown on his head. 

Alistair rose, the weight of the crown obvious to him, despite how light the metal was. 

He turned to Anora and Loghain, both wearing similar strained smiles on their faces, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he made the right choice. He could have let Anora rule, could have stayed to the side. But there was a feeling that this was how it was supposed to be. That Maric and Cailan would have wanted this. 

He pulled himself up straighter, a slouching king wouldn’t do. 

It had only been six days since Ostagar was lost and Alistair had work to do. He smiled to Loghain and Anora and left the room, the chamberlain and Tomas quickly following behind. 

Loghian gritted his teeth, clenching and unclenching his jaw as he tried to make sense how quickly this all fell apart. 

“Father?” Anora asked carefully. She had seen her father get this angry before. Often something foolish Cailan said or did, but this felt different. Her father felt different. She wasn’t sure what happened in Ostagar, and wasn’t sure if she wanted the whole truth. Should she accept that her father lead to her husband’s death…or to believe that he truly did what he could to save as many as possible. 

“Anora,” Loghain began, trying to calm his voice, “Have you considered marrying Alistair? He would be foolish to ignore your insight, having run the country for the past few years.”

“It has crossed my mind…” Anora began, unsure where to go next. She had the same idea, but after seeing how quickly Alistair jumped to action didn’t think the suggestion would be well received. 

“Then take care of it,” Loghain said stiffy, turning away from his daughter and walking to the door. 

Anora stood in the now empty room, trying to hold it together just a bit longer. In less than a week she lost her husband, her throne, and possibly her father. He seemed more intense than usual and Anora could only wonder what drove him to this state. 

Even without prompting from her father, Anora needed to speak with Alistair. If nothing else she could help the transition along. 

\-----

Loghain quickly stopped in his room to change out of his armor. He had been riding in it nearly non-stop for several days and was ready for a wash and a hot meal, though that might have to wait. 

He assumed he would come home to Anora ruling fine by herself, Alistair shirking responsibility, and Loghain could act as regent to the throne. No matter what, he could not allow Orlesians into Ferelden; Wardens or not. He would rally more troops and crush the darkspawn horde now that he had a better idea of what they were up against. 

But he still had more to do. While returning from Ostagar they found a mage on the run and Loghain had plans for him, though he wasn’t sure what yet. And if Howe had done his part, the Couslands would no longer be an issue. 

The next obstacle to deal with would be Arl Eamon: Cailan’s uncle, and Rowan’s brother. He had the gall to marry an Orlesian and act like he’d done nothing wrong. A daughter of one of the occupiers no less. Loghain had met Isolde during her stay in Denerim, and she was a wretch of a women. Entitled, vile and a bore. Redcliffe was a gate from Orlais to Ferelden and Loghain had no doubt that Eamon would gladly open the door for his bitch of a wife. 

Already Loghain was feeling spread thin. He needed Howe to come to Denerim so he had an ally close. He didn’t know who to trust. Certainly not the new King, and even his daughter gave him pause. She wrapped Cailan around her finger without even trying; the other Theirin brother should have already fallen. 

There wasn’t much that could be done right now he decided. Hot bath. Hot meal. Talk with Alistair. The young man saw Loghain as a father figure, and unlike Cailan, had often given his ear to Loghain’s suggestions. Choosing a sword and shield over a large broad sword had been a small sign but one nonetheless. Alistair was cautious, ready to defend before going on the offensive. Cailan was all glory and pomp. It really was a shame he couldn’t be saved, but Loghain had been called to a higher power and not even Maric’s son could stop him from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much more proud of this chapter. It was initially really hard because I really wanted to understand Loghain and his reasons, "Take Me Apart" by SYML really helped me with that. I hope this chapter feels true to his character as written by David Gaider but also with the shift in the Universe he now lives in. I have a lot more Loghain POV stuff coming in future chapters.


	11. Pretty as a Picture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party grows in Lothering.

“Have we decided where we want to go first?” Ikal asked as they walked down the dirt road. 

Livia was still in a state of shock. Losing the King, Duncan, all the other Wardens… It had been a lot to take in and not much time to process it all. Steel had stayed dutifully by his partner’s side, often reminding her to stop or even take a sip of water. 

It wasn’t that there was much love lost between herself and the other Wardens, but Duncan had been a mentor and someone who believed in her when no one else would. And with him gone, there was little to stop her from returning to Highever and being with her family. Not that she would dishonor the man or guild so easily, but to see her father again, enjoy a cup of tea with her mother, hunt with Fergus or teach little Oren to use a sword… it was tempting to say the least. 

Livia also couldn’t help but mourn the King. Cailan had always been kind to her during her time in Denerim, but Alistair would be wrecked. Losing his father and brother so soon after each other would weigh heavily on him. Part of her hoped there was someone at his side to help ease the grief, and part of her wanted it to be her. To rush to his side and be whatever he needed her to be. But this was her own grief and selfishness talking, she had a job and she truly was the only one who could complete it. 

It was Ikal that kept her focused. Reminding her what their duty was when she was too ready to cast it all aside. What would two Wardens, a mabari, and a Witch of the Wilds accomplish? She might as well spend time with her family before the Blight took them all. 

And yet, between Ikal ,and Flemeths’s warnings, Livia had some hope that maybe they could do this. Gather the three armies, seek aid from the nobility, maybe even the new King himself. Though Livia couldn’t help but fear the worse. What if Loghain’s opportune retreat which lead to the death of King Cailan had been planned by the man who now sat on Ferelden’s throne? Livia felt stupid thinking it, Alistair loved Cailan, the man she knew would have slit his own neck before betraying Ferelden. But who was to say that man existed anymore? Once she joined the Wardens she heard little of Prince Alistair, and maybe he changed. Maybe she never knew him to begin with. 

“I take it you have some thoughts on the matter?” Livia replied in a haze. 

Ikal exhaled heavily, “Well I am from the Circle, we might want to see them first since they might be an easier ally. Though we might want to wait till we get to Lothering and see if there is any news.”

“Eager to return to the leash that once held you?” Morrigan’s voice slid in from behind. 

“Excuse me?” Ikal stopped walking, turning back to look at their resident witch. 

“You seem willing to return to your cage. Is the world too big for you?”

Livia had ignored their jabbing but now stopped, cautiously curious. A surge of energy crackled in the air off Ikal, Steel bristled with a growl and stood between Livia and the two mages. 

“For your information, I was stolen from my family and placed in the Circle. Not that you are owed an explanation. But it was my home for most of my life, I have friends there and we need a plan.”

Morrigan pursed her lips and turned her head away. Ikal calmed slightly and returned to Livia’s side, but his steps gave away his irritation. 

Livia wished Ikal knew better by now. Morrigan often had little digs here and there, trying to rile the two Wardens up. Livia found it easy to ignore; Morrigan was a scared kitten who only knew how to scratch. She’d have to spend more time with more people before she was tamed. Ikal couldn’t seem to help but walk into Morrigan’s jabs, and it was starting to make for a very icy atmosphere. 

Livia now sighed, wishing the two would get along or at least be quiet. Morrigan was easy enough to talk to; if you talked about her. 

They had only been walking a couple days, and didn’t have much longer till Lothering, but Livia found small moments in their tight camp or on the road to ask small questions here or there. Ikal had been very right about the Shapeshifting magic Morrigan held, an Livia couldn’t help but be fascinated by the ability to run as a wolf, fly like a bird, or swim like a fish. Livia had no doubt once the two got over themselves they would be fast friends. 

Steel suddenly stopped, and dropped into a low stance, as if ready to charge, when a large animal crashed through the brush and slammed into Steel. 

It took only a moment before the dust settled and there stood another mabari hound. Steel sniffed the new dog curiously before giving Livia a happy bark and standing back. 

Ikal came forward first, dropping to a knee and extending his hand which the dog eagerly came to giving a sniff and then a lick. 

“I think this is the dog I saved at Ostagar. That flower I found? I gave it to the kennel master and he said if the hound lived, she would be mine,” Ikal explained over his shoulder. 

The new dog was a darker shade of brown than Steel, her coat a bit longer and unkempt, but her dark golden eyes stared straight into Ikal and Livia knew he had been chosen. 

“Well what’s her name?” Livia said softy. 

She was instantly transported back to when she got Steel. She had just turned fifteen, and had been gifted her first sword from the Captain of her father’s guard, Ser Grant, when her father had another surprised and she was allowed to pick a puppy from the new litter of mabari in the kennels. 

Steel chose her, as all mabari do. Livia stood in the middle of the room when the puppies were unleashed, running and playing with each other. Steel stood alone, an obvious leader of the pack, and watched her carefully. When she kneeled her hands outreached to any of the puppies, he pushed through and placed his body under her hand, nipping at any of the other puppies that came near. 

In the end she went with Steel. Not only did he have soulful deep grey eyes, but now she would always have her Steel at her side, whether it be her hound or her blade.

“Andy,” Ikal answered, earning a confused look from his companions.

Andy barked happily and nuzzled into Ikal’s side.

“Short for Andraste,” Ikal explained. 

“Why am I not surprised a slave of the Chantry would take such a name?”

“Andraste was a Ferelden mage who freed the elves and slaves of Teivinter. Her being a Chantry symbol has nothing to do with it,” Ikal shot back defensively. 

Livia rolled her eyes at the pair and gave Andy a pet before continuing the march. They had been walking along the Imperial Highway for a time now, the road was far too damaged to travel on it, but a set of stairs and distinct smoke told her it was time to take it the rest of the way to Lothering. 

\--

Before they were even fully upon them, Livia had a bad feeling of the men loitering along the road outside Lothering. She sped up slightly so she was obviously leading the pack. Between the two mages and two dogs, Livia felt more comfortable taking charge in human villages. 

As they got closer, the obvious leader stepped forward calling to his men. 

“Wake up, gentlemen! More travelers to attend to. I’d guess the pretty one is the leader.”

There were face to face fairly quickly and one of the men was quick to point out how armed Livia and her group was. 

“Maybe, we should just let these one’s pass…” he stammered. 

“Nonsense! Greetings travelers!” the leader greeted. 

Livia quickly assessed the group. Two archers, two swordsmen, and a brute with a large hammer. If Ikal and Morrigan each took an archer, the dogs could take the swordsmen and Livia could hopefully take out the brute and try to avoid much damage. She could see a few Templars, below in the town, their large armor always stuck out, but figured they would be no help in this fight. 

“Hello!” Ikal called cheerfully, “Are you greeters for Lothering? Have any recommendations for supplies?”

Livia outwardly groaned at Ikal’s ignorance. 

The leader laughed, “You could say that.”

“They are fools to get in our way. I say teach them a lesson,” Morrigan suggested. 

Livia wasn’t one to fight just for the sake of it, but had to agree with the witch. It was unlikely this would end with no bloodshed. 

“A simple ten silvers and you are free to move on. Not asking for much.” All the men had moved into position, and Livia shifted her stance, a slight signal to Steel who also moved into position. He let a low whine and Andy quickly understood the situation. 

“You’re toll collectors?” Livia asked. 

“Indeed! For the upkeep of the Imperial Highway! It’s a bit of a mess, isn’t it?” The bandit eagerly agreed. 

“Perhaps you should charge more, then. It seems ten silvers isn’t helping,” Livia replied coolly. 

Ikal leaned forward, “I’m confused, why should we give them our coin?”

“You want to pay more?” he looked greedily at the two men flanked at his side, “We will happily accept donations.”

“I’m just saying it’s rough business for such a pittance.” Livia leaned forward, her eyes hooded and she placed a hand on her dagger’s handle. 

“I could be mistaken,” the man said and stepped back slightly, “but that sounded threatening.” 

“Sounded like a threat to me,” one of the thugs agreed. 

“Interesting, because you seem a bit outnumbered,” the leader replied, trying to keep his composure. Steel and Andy were both locked in their places, their hulking shoulders arched, and ready to pounce. 

“Hard to be outnumbered by some lowlife thugs,” Livia shrugged. 

“Well I can’t say I’m pleased to hear that. We have rules, you know.”

Livia was getting tired of the cat and mouse. She wanted to get into town, get some information, maybe a drink and find someplace to camp. They had a long journey ahead, no matter the first stop. 

“We get to ransack your corpse, then. Those are the rules,” the dullard explained. 

Livia sighed, stepping forward and drawing her dagger. 

“Give it your best shot,” she threw the dagger, lodging it in the brute’s shoulder, while drawing her sword off her back. This sent Steel and Andy into action, as they charged into the archers, who had barely notched their crossbows. 

Morrigan shot a bolt of ice into the brute, slowing him even more, while Ikal, a bit slower threw down a glyph of paralysis in front of the mages. 

Livia kicked forward, her blade coming down on the leader’s axe, which he quickly drew. 

They fought for only a few moments, before the bandit leader held his hands up in defeat. 

“Alright! We surrender! We-we-we’re just trying to get by, before the darkspawn get us all!”

Livia backed down, three of the bandits already dead, and quickly decided if she even wanted to give him a chance. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand the fear. Darkspawn were monsters, but she doubted these men served at Ostagar, so their racket was based on opportunistic greed and not genuine fear. 

“Get by?!” Livia asked incredulously, “You’re a criminal! And a cowardly one at that. Picking on people fleeing for their lives!” 

“Yes, I’m a criminal; I admit it. I apologize.”

Hardly, Livia thought. Still he was ruined, half of his band lay dead, and he was fairly wounded himself. She could just leave and let live, but at the same time, it infuriated her that anyone would do something like this. Yet, maybe she could turn this around. If she took nothing else away from her short time with Duncan, she learned that everyone deserved a second chance. Everyone deserved redemption. 

“You’ll follow my lead. Redeem yourselves as soldiers under my command.” She could feel Morrigan’s judgement, but the witch stayed silent. 

“You’re joking, right? I could never be a soldier!” 

Livia sighed. While it wasn’t in her nature to play judge, jury and executioner, if these thugs wouldn’t choose a chance to change, she didn’t see this ending up with them leaving here alive. 

“Then you can answer to the authorities in Lothering.”

“There aren’t any! Just the templars and they’ll execute me!”

There was no way out then. 

“Then I will execute you here.”

The man backed up, fear in his eyes but a grim determination held him there. 

“I’m not going down without a fight!”

It ended up not being much of a fight. With her Warden stamina, Livia was barely winded from the first half of the skirmish, while the remaining of the thugs were already battered. 

“Look around, see if there is anything useful,” she told the mages while sheathing her sword. She went to the brute and took her dagger from his shoulder, seeing if there was anything else of value. 

She had noticed the templar corpse when they first arrived but now was able to examine it more closely. If she could find out who he was, maybe someone in town would be interested in his fate. She found a letter and a locket tucked in his waist band and a quick scan of the letter mentioned something of the Urn of Sacred Ashes, a myth as far as Livia knew, and a Ser Donall from Redcliffe. 

That was a thought, Livia mused, Arl Eamon was related to the Theirins, and her father had spoken highly of their honor; they might be valuable allies. Redcliffe was close, closer than the Circle, but Ikal had a solid argument to revisit his home. 

Once everything of use had been packed away, Livia passed a cloth over her armor trying to remove some of the fresher blood that had accumulated. They really needed to find a blacksmith so she could clean it properly. She was about to offer the rag to her companions before realizing the two mages barely had to move from their spots while they fought. She felt almost jealous but at the same time a bit sad for them. While she took no pleasure in killing, it mattered to her that they saw who did it. That ended up being the final push to studying warriors over rogues. She didn’t want to be a thief hidden in the shadows, she was a harbinger of death and her victims deserved to know who held the blade that cut them down. 

They descended from the highway in Lothering and now had a better idea of what was going on. The village was packed with people in small tent communities, almost every inch of land that didn’t hold a building, held tents. This wasn’t good. 

“Wait,” Livia said and jogged back up the stairs, grabbing a cloak and tossing it to Morrigan. “Maker, Morrigan, are you trying to get us caught? Cover up. It’s not that warm out. And both of you carry your staff as if they are helping you walk. If anyone asks, you hired me to protect you on the road, understand? No mention of Grey Wardens.”

“You, there! Lothering is lost. Move along,” a templar called out when the group got closer.

“We only seek information and supplies,” Livia responded, “Why haven’t the people moved on?”

“Many don’t feel safe on the roads, but there is little the templars can do here,” the man eyed them through his helmet but kept jerking around, jumping at every little noise. 

“Where is your Lord and his men? I don’t believe they were at Ostagar.” 

“When General Loghain passed back through this area he took them; we’ve been left defenseless. If you have more questions I suggest asking Ser Bryant in the Chantry.”

Livia accepted the dismissal, her mind lost in thoughts. Was Loghain planning a coup? She never thought him an overly ambitious man. Still, if the lords were being drawn away by Loghain, this wasn’t a good sign. The Blight could be on the horizon and she was stuck out here in the backwaters between the Hinterlands and the Bannorn with an apostate from the wilds and an elf mage who knew nothing but the Circle. She needed more personal allies and fast. 

They started towards the Chantry, Livia so lost in thought, she didn’t notice when she lost most of her group to an argument between a Sister and a Merchant. 

\--

“These people sold you their items less than a week ago and now you want to rob them!”

Ikal slowed down just enough and caught the eye of the merchant who called out to him. 

“You there! You look able enough. Care to make some coin to help a business man?”

Ikal perked up. He didn’t know much about coin, but knew it was used often out here. In the Circle you could trade or barter items or experiences. Some of the more titillating mages could often trade using their bodies in return. His friend Anders has been one. He was pretty, for a man, and his words could spin a world of desire. He used this skill often in aiding his escapes, for all that did for him. 

But Ikal did understand they needed coin if they were to get supplies. Trade didn’t work as well out here. 

“What are you offering?” Ikal responded. 

“50 silver to drive the rabble off,” he sneered at the woman in front of him. 

Ikal recognized the Chantry robes, and his heart softened. There was no lost love of the Chantry as an institution that placed him in a Circle in the first place, but the Sisters had always been kind to him. 

“Please sir,” she begged turning to Ikal to plead her case, “These people only want to purchase goods at a fair price.”

The merchant scoffed, “They decide what it’s worth to them. I merely offer.”

Morrigan leaned to Ikal, “Are we to stop and help every bemoaning villager we come across? Take his deal and let us move on.”

Ikal bit his lip in hesitation. Everyone seemed to have a strong opinion on his thoughts, and he just wanted to do the right thing. 

“If you are not here to buy, go somewhere else!” he shouted to the small crowd. 

The merchant laughed and counted some coin before placing it in Ikal’s hand. The Sister shook her head in disappointment and lead the group away. 

“A wise choice,” Morrigan approved and Ikal smiled weakly, the coin heavy in his hand. 

When he looked up, Livia was nowhere to be seen. He pocketed the coin and spun around, seeing if he could find her when his eyes caught an elven family standing by the bridge. 

Maybe they would be able to help him. He walked over to them, the man pulling his arms protectively around his partner and child but calmed once they saw Ikal’s ears poking from his long hair. 

“Excuse me sir, did you see a woman in leather armor? A fair bit taller than me with brown hair?”

The man shook his head. “Sorry, friend. We’re just trying to get by. What little we had was taken by those bandits on the road.”

Ikal’s eyes brightened, “We--” Ikal remembered Livia’s warning, “my guard, she took care of them. They won’t bother anyone else. And,” Ikal stuck his hand back in his pocket and pulled out a few of the coins. “Here,” he handed them to the family. 

The woman shuddered and began to thank Ikal profusely while the man wiped a tear from his eye, then clasped Ikal’s hand in his own. 

“Thank you. Thank you,” he sighed happily, and turned to his family, “Let’s see if any of our items are still there.”

Morrigan huffed and turned her lips down and now Ikal had enough. 

“And what should we do, Morrigan? Turn down everyone in help or need? What makes you so quick to judge them?”

Morrigan snorted and turned away, shaking her head. He knew so little and yet demanded so much. Who was he to demand such answers from her? Morrigan was ready to set him straight when she caught sight of Livia exiting the Chantry’s courtyard. 

“Look. Our fearless leader,” she said dryly, walking towards Livia and leaving Ikal behind to seethe. 

He clenched his hands into fists, a calming technique he used to focus and started back to his party when a little voice caught his attention.

“Mommy! Where are you, Mommy?”

Ikal closed his eyes and felt something pull at the corner of his mind, his head aching as he tried to conjure a memory that seemed just out of his grasp. 

He let it slip away and stepped towards the boy, who was already being comforted by Livia.

Morrigan, once again holding her tongue, stood nearby tapping her foot impatiently.

A few quick words were said between Livia and the child, and when Ikal was about to ask what happened, Livia just shook her head.

“Can we help him?” Ikal asked, his heart aching for the young child.

Livia just shook her head again and headed over the bridge to the tavern.

“I heard them Grey Wardens are what did it. Left King Cailan out there to die, they did.”

Livia paused, her hand ready to push the door into the tavern, and bit her bottom lip in anger.

She exhaled slowly and pushed into the building, having to shove her way through the throngs of people taking up almost every inch of floor space.

“Move!” came a bellowing voice from the crowd, which parted easily. “Look what we have here. Deserters from Ostagar. Grey Wardens in fact.”

Livia scoffed, her hands already on her blades.

“Gentlepeople, wait. Surely this can be handled peacefully.” Ikal glanced curiously at the Chantry sister as she stepped forward. Her rich red hair reminded him of the poppies that bloomed outside the Circle in the spring.

“Please, Sister,” Livia began, her teeth showing in a twisted grin, “if it is a fight they want, they shall have it!”

Livia lurched forward first, her blades cutting down two of the men before they could even react.

Ikal watched in horror. This was the power of a Grey Warden. Livia told him it would hit, a near endless well of stamina and strength, and that he hadn’t even seen a speck of what she could do when motivated.

The fight lasted what felt like seconds, the leader immediately calling off his remaining men.

“Hold! Please,” he begged.

“Good, we can all stop fighting now,” the Sister interjected, while sliding a dagger back into her robes.

“I think not,” Livia snapped. “Who are you? Who sent you?” Within a blink she had pressed her dagger to the man’s throat.

He watched carefully as he swallowed, standing stiff to give as much space between his flesh and the blade.

“General Loghain. He told us to wait here in case any Grey Wardens came through.”

“And what makes you think we are Grey Wardens,” Livia hissed, glancing at the mages behind her.

“Some Chasind said he saw you at the camp, going to the Tower of Ishal.”

Livia cursed, pressing closer to the man.

“And what does the grand General Loghain want with us?”

“He says you must pay for abandoning the King. That you must be brought to justice,” the man gulped, Livia’s blade flush with his throat.

“Lies!” Livia spat, pressing her blade till a thin line of blood appeared. “And what does the new King think of his General’s plans?” Livia held her breath, terrified of the answer, but knowing she had to know now.

“How should I know?!” The man’s voice was pitched

Livia cursed again and withdrew her blade, the man immediately moving backwards to create space between them.

“Tell your General, I’m coming for him. I know what really happened at Ostagar and I will have blood.”

The man nodded eagerly and left with his remaining soldiers close behind him.

“So you’re Grey Wardens then,” the Sister stated.

Livia looked over the young woman closely but shook her head.

“They were mistaken. We need to go.”

Before another word could be shared, Livia walked out the door, leaving Ikal and Morrigan to once again try to catch up with her.

Livia seemed almost in a trance, unsure what her next steps were. Loghain had made his moves clear. He was seeking to erase any chance that his wicked deed would reach light. If Alistair didn’t know what the man was capable of, Livia would make it her mission to get the news to him. This was still assuming Alistair hadn’t made the plan to begin with.

Livia felt frustrated. They had barely a plan and not many allies. While in the Chantry she met Ser Donnell, a knight who was friends with the dead Templar outside the village. He confirmed the search for the Urn of Sacred Ashes and let Livia know that Arl Eamon was sick with an unknown illness.

This didn’t change much, she figured, going to the Circle first still made the most sense. They were the ones bound by the treaty. Maker, Duncan, you knew the whole time, why couldn’t you just tell me? Livia wondered.

It was hard enough losing every other Warden, but losing Duncan still hit deep.

She didn’t even notice when Ikal and Morrigan joined at her side, Ikal placing his hand cautiously on her shoulder.

Livia smiled briefly at him, it rang hollow, but she did appreciate it.

They walked a bit further, nearing the edge of town, and little more known than when they entered.

“Do you hear that?” Livia paused and cocked her head.

Ikal closed his eyes and tuned through the different sounds in his reach. The Little Boy had left his spot by the bridge and the family he helped had left for good, their sounds were gone. There were two men arguing near-by and just past that, unrecognizable words being chanted.

Ikal nodded and they continued on, searching for the strange language.

They stopped in front of a cage, a hulking brute of a man standing straight and tall, the words clear as he spoke them carefully.

“You’re not my captors,” he stated when Livia stepped into his field of vision. “Go away human, I will not entertain anymore of your kind.”

“And what are you?” Livia had never seen a man so large and devoid of color. His skin was akin to a cloudy day, his dirty white hair pulled back in braids against his scalp, and pale blue eyes steady and firmly locked with hers.

“I am a prisoner.”

Livia pursed her lips, unimpressed. 

“Would you like to not be?”

“If nothing else, we should free him before the coming Blight swallows him and this pathetic town,” Morrigan interjected. Livia didn’t normally agree much with the witch, but she had a point.

“I find myself in need of skilled help. You look competent.”

“I am.”

“Really chatty this one?” Ikal muttered.   
  
“Were we talking with you, elf?”

“Excuse me?” Ikal said incredulously. “We’re offering you freedom! Are you so picky you would throw it away?”

“I do not think the Qunari means it as an insult,” Morrigan said calmly.

“Qunari?” Livia hummed. She had heard very little of the people; they were much further north than she ever thought she might travel so they held little interest to her.

“I am Sten of the Beresaad—the vanguard of the Qunari people and unless you have anything useful to say, I ask that you move on.”

“Who put you here?”

Before Sten could reply, a familiar voice piqued up.

“The Revered Mother.” It was the Sister from the tavern, her Chantry robes replaced with leather armor, and a bow and quiver slung over her shoulders.

“Why?” Livia felt like she was pulling teeth, trying to get answers from this crowd.

“I murdered a family,” Sten said without hesitation. “The Templars came and I let them take me. I must atone for my sins.”

Livia thought about what Duncan would do in this situation. It was true that brining a murdered along wasn’t the best idea, but allies came from strange situations. If Livia could recreate the Joining Ritual, then he could find atonement that way.

“I have another solution…”

\--

It took little coercing to get the Sister-- Leliana, to pick the lock on Sten’s cage. She too joined the growing party and they made their way out of town.

Steel and Andy were playing by a tree which gave them a vantage point to a crowd of angry villagers, and Livia decided it was best to avoid them completely.

A quick scuffle with some Darkspawn gave Sten a large sword to work with and armor that fit him for the most part. He took these things off the corpses without a word, making Livia shudder.

Livia’s armor was still covered in blood and gunk, maybe they could find a blacksmith in the next village, but they needed to rest, and for the first time in what felt like a long time, Livia had a moment’s rest.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bit of a slog for me. I had a really hard time writing for more than 10 or so minutes at a time, and considering how long the chapter is... it took awhile. Livia's impatience definitely reflects my own. I want to "get to the good part" but want everything to be a good part. The Circle is pretty neat though. I am also Beta-less again... so seeking one if there is one to seek. And to pile the excuses on; I burned my arm in a stupid place where I couldn't write because of it irritating the wound. Ah, so it goes. On to more things! A chapter with Alistair, Anora and Loghain I think shall be next...


	12. Your Majesty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair acts like a king

“General Loghain, thank you for joining me today,” Alistair started, gesturing to the Teryn to begin walking. 

It was a cool autumn day, the leaves were starting to turn and the sun was setting earlier every day. They strolled through the garden, the same garden where Livia left him just over three years prior, but there was no time to visit ghosts. 

“I wanted to check in with you on the plan to support the remaining Wardens from Ostagar. I have heard that two have made it to Kinloch Hold where they are gathering allies.”

Loghain kept his face still as stone to not give away his frustration. So it was true. The two wardens that were sent to the Tower of Ishal somehow made it out alive. He would have words with Commander Desmond on his return. 

“Your majesty,” was all Loghain could muster. 

“I have also received word that Rendon Howe has taken command of Castle Cousland. By chance do you have any information on why Bryce Cousland is no longer in charge of Highever?”

Loghain bit back a curse. Dammit. How had he learned of this so quickly? Howe was supposed to be more discreet. 

“I believe, sire, that an outbreak of a sickness has rendered the Lord Cousland and his Lady ill and Rendon Howe is there to help since he is the closest Lord. His son Fergus was at Ostagar and his location is currently unknown.”

“And the Lady Livia Cousland?” 

“Her whereabouts are also unknown,” Loghain said. That much was true. Howe had sent word that after Fergus left and the castle was taken, they had been unable to find the second Cousland heir. Her room had been empty and looked to have been for awhile. 

“I see. Well then, please send a small guard to Castle Highever and see if Howe or the Couslands need any aid.”

Loghain paused, letting Alistair move a few steps ahead, relief washing his face. 

“And please send word to my Uncle Eamon to send Bann Tegan to take over for Howe at his earliest convenience.”

“Your majesty?” Loghain asked. 

“While I appreciate Howe stepping in, the Couslands are the next closest to the throne and I would like a Guerrin to watch the lands until Lord Bryce is fully back to health. “

Loghain gritted his teeth. 

“Of course sire. If that is all?”

Alistair waved a hand, his back still turned to the general. “Of course General, you are dismissed.”

Alistair waited several long moments before turning back around and doubled over, holding a pillar for support while he inhaled deeply. 

He did it! He sounded like a king and everything! His hands were shaking from excitement and nervousness, he really didn’t think he would be able to pull it off, but Ferelden needed a leader and he wouldn’t sit by and do nothing. Alistair watched the way Loghain talked to Cailan, too familiar and lacking respect. That wasn’t going to be him. 

\--

This was going to be harder than he thought. 

For as little faith as Loghain had in Cailan in the previous few months, Alistair had stayed firmly off the general’s radar. He saw no threat from Alistair’s rule, and figured the young man would be easy to sway towards Loghain’s thoughts and Ferelden would stay safe. 

Unfortunately, the newly crowned king seemed eager to do things his way and quickly shot down Loghain's suggestion for Alistair and Anora to wed. He even had the gall to chuckle at the thought!

No, Alistair was going to require a less direct approach. Loghain wasn’t sure what changed in the young man, he had never shown much interest in ruling before, but once Alistair heard of Cailan’s death and that he would be king, the young man changed into something much harder and less malleable. Gone was the jovial jokester, and while Loghain certainly couldn’t complain of a strong leader on the throne of Ferelden, the new king shared in his brother’s belief that the Grey Wardens were heroes, and not a stepping stone to Orlais trying to take back the country again. 

Unfortunately Logahin did not have many he could trust. Even Anora these days seemed less inclined to heed her father’s words, and allies seemed to be rapidly disappearing into sides of a civil war that seemed to be brewing. 

Despite being a renowned strategist, Loghain was stymied that he was being out maneuvered by Alistair Theirin of all people. Maybe there was more of Maric in him than Loghain had given credit for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like writing the Alistair and Loghain chapters! This was done way before the Lothering chapter was. I want to make sure there is one of these after almost every Livia and Ikal chapter. Onto the Circle next!


	13. Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ikal goes home.

After a quick stop at the inn on the shore of Lake Calenhad and intimidating a templar, Liva, Ikal Morrigan and Leilana, rode quietly in the ferry across the lake’s icy waters. Sten chose to stay on the shore with the two mabari, citing that mages outside of the Qun were too dangerous to be around. 

The tower loomed over them and Ikal shivered, but not from the cold. While his time in the circle was nowhere near as bad as others, he still did not think he would be back so quickly. 

Livia pulled him in a gentle side hug, the two of them having become quite close in the short period of time they had known each other. 

When Ikal first was violently woken by the dreams, Livia explained what it all meant, how they knew it was truly a Blight and confirming how important their role was. They often slept very near each other now, waking the other one when the dreams would not let go. Ikal practiced the one calming spell he knew, in an attempt to help Livia sleep on the particularly awful nights. 

Morrigan huddled under her cloak, not even complaining and Leliana chatted about the history of Kinloch Hold. 

When they arrived Ikal had to summon more strength than he thought to even walk up the stairs to the large tower doors. 

The same doors that made him feel trapped for so long were taunting him; making him feel as if he entered the halls again, they wouldn’t let him leave for a second time. 

Entering the hall though, Ikal felt surprisingly calm. He could smell the parchment and ink used in the study tomes, the fires started by apprentices to keep the chill from the lake at bay, and the general must of a tower often kept locked up. 

But something else tipped Ikal off that things were not alright. Aside from the entrance stuffed with wounded templars, there was a distinct smell of blood and fear that permeated the air, growing thicker with every step into the hall. 

“Knight-Commander Greagoir, where is First Enchanter?”

The Knight-Commander looked up from the papers in his hands, his face washed with confusion then recognition. 

“Ah, you. What brings you back so soon?”

Ikal gave a false smile, there was no lost love between the mage and knight-commander. 

“The Wardens have treaties that require the mage’s aid during a Blight. We have come…”

Greagoir quickly cut him off, “The tower is lost. There are no mages.”

The shiver ran down Ikal’s spine. 

“The Right of Annulment…” he could barely get out the words. 

“Has been requested from Denerim, but I will not risk anymore of my men to the blood mages and demons that now inhabit the tower.”

Ikal would not let this one lie. 

“So you’re not even sure if anyone still lives?! I know my fellows; some surely have held and need rescue.”

Greagoir sighed and rubbed his temples seeming to forget his thick gauntlets. 

“Let me and my companions go. We can clear the tower of demons and return it to order,” Ikal pleaded. 

“Fine,” Greagoir sighed again. “But I will only open the doors for the First Enchanter.” With a wave of his hand, two templars escorted Ikal and his companions to the locked doors and opened them. 

The heavy doors slammed shut behind them and Ikal couldn’t help but wonder if this was the best move. 

“Livia,” he started. As the more Senior Warden, he often left things to her, but this he had to do on his own. Before he could even get another word out, she shook her head with a smile and drew pinched fingers across her lips. This was his show. 

They quickly checked in the apprentice quarters, gathering anything that might be of use and making sure every room was clear. 

Entering the chamber to the basement entrance, several mages, mostly children were gathered to the side, while a senior enchanter fought off a rage demon. The smell of brimstone and ash sat in the air, and the mage turned around a bit out of breath. 

“Wynne?!” Ikal cried out and jogged over to the older mage, bringing her into an embrace. She sighed into the younger man’s shoulder. 

“The prodigal son returns!” she laughed. “I take it you’re here for the Warden treaties… I’m surprised Greagoir even let you in.”

“I promised to save the circle and bring Irving back. What happened?”

Wynne quickly explained the situation and confirmed that blood magic was being used, chilling Ikal to his core. He couldn’t help but look to the basement door, remembering how he betrayed one of his only friends. But blood magic was unforgivable. 

Ikal decided that Leliana would stay with the children and other mages. She seemed a tad upset at the decision but was soon drawn into telling stories to keep everyone calm. 

Moving through the tower, Ikal was cautious and through, making sure to check under every fallen desk and in every chest. You never knew what magical artefacts would be found. He was quite worried that Wynne would think less of him, as he ransacked each room, but if she felt that way, she didn’t make it known. 

He was surprised how few bodies there were, until they came upon the library and were met with waves of walking corpses, and abominations. He would never know if they were his fellows or not. 

Each floor was the same. Check each room carefully, carry as much as was able, and kill everything that moved. There weren’t many living mages anymore, and the ones there were, were all blood mages. Ikal had no patience for the pain and chaos they caused and let himself play judge, jury and executioner for their crimes. 

He could feel the disapproval from his companions, everyone had their reasons, but he tried to push that aside for now; they needed to save Irving. 

There were few actual demons, mostly shades and wraiths, and they barely slowed the team down. 

Once they came to the center chamber on the fourth floor though, Ikal could feel a much stronger presence behind the door.

“Something feels wrong, we need to tread carefully,” Ikal’s voice low, making eye contact with the three women.

Ready to face whatever was behind the door, Wynne cast a protection spell around the group and Livia kicked the door in. 


	14. If I Was Someone Else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ikal dreams

Ikal woke up and immediately knew he was in the Fade. Quickly looking around he was surprised to be in a lush forest. Walking along a dirt path he came to a camp and was immediately greeted by an elven woman. 

“Da’len! There you are, we were about to come looking for you,” she said warmly pulling him into a hug. 

“Come, brother!” a younger woman came up to Ikal, pulling on his hand, “The Keeper is about to name you her First!”

He knew it was the Fade, yet he also wanted to believe that this was real. To have a place and home. Being Dalish was only one of his fantasies; there was also the possibility he was born in the circle or in an alienage. But this felt the most right in the moment and for a few more blissful seconds he breathed in the forest air deeply. 

Allowing himself to be pulled away, he was brought before an elderly woman with, if he was remembering the texts correctly, the vallaslin of Mythal, the mother goddess. 

In fact, Ikal’s own soft curved tattoos along his cheeks, were supposed to pay homage to Sylaise, despite not really looking much like the true vallaslin. 

He allowed the ceremony to take place, knowing much of it was drawn from his own interpretations based on what he read. 

“Keeper, I must join the Grey Wardens to help defeat the Blight,” he tried to reason when the ceremony was over. It was futile to reason with the demon, but he needed to break the spell before he could escape. 

“Oh, da’len! We Dalish don’t worry ourselves with the troubles of man. We will move our camp and out run it.”

“The treaties demand aid, and I will prove to humans that we are not a threat.”

“Why are you trying to run off to war? We are happy here. We have the trees and the streams and our family and friends.”

“It is something I need to do.”

Stating such a firm statement, immediately twisted the look in the Keeper’s eyes. 

“I see you want nothing more than blood and fire! And so you shall have it!”

The camp melted away, leaving Ikal, the “Keeper” and his “sister” in a more regular looking Fade space, if the Fade could be called regular.

Using the benefit of unlimited mana, Ikal drew his most powerful spells as quickly as possible, dispatching the demons.

A pedestal appeared, drawing Ikal to it. He had never seen or read about anything like this, but hoped it was the key to escaping the dream. 

There was only one way to go, so Ikal allowed the Fade to shift around him, and found himself with another mage in an area filled with archways. 

“Niall?”

“Who?” the man looked confused, as if he wasn’t sure who he was anymore. “Yes… I remember, you were an apprentice at Ferelden’s Circle.”

A quick conversation with Niall told everything Ikal needed to know. Using the pedestals, Ikal could move around the realm of the sloth demon that trapped them. He vaguely remembered the moments before he wound up in the dream, and knew he needed to save his companions as well as defeat the other demons protecting this section of the Fade. 

Sloth must be very strong, Ikal mused after learning how to turn into a mouse, to have carved such a large area of the Fade and having so many other demons under its control. It was uncommon to say the least, especially from a sloth demon. 

The first island was a Darkspawn Invasion. Ikal felt panic and bile rise in his throat with every room, as fire chased him deeper into the Fade. Using the new shapeshifting power of “Mouse” he made his way to where the dreamer was held. A templar full of rage, who only calmed, once the darkspawn were defeated. The spirit felt old and transferred his essence, allowing Ikal to shapeshift into what looked like an arcane horror, based on the new claw-like hands and robes. 

Ikal wondered why a templar of all people would have such intense fears of darkspawn, unless this was a piece pulled from Ikal’s own fears. 

Wandering further into the dream realms, Ikal couldn’t help but notice the mass amounts of fire no matter where he was. Was this something done by Sloth? Maybe remnants of mages and templars killed in Uldred’s take over? Or something deeper? Whenever the flames started to lick at his feet, Ikal couldn’t help but feel that there was a memory trapped, but he was unsure if it was his, or someone else. 


	15. The Life That Never Was

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Livia dreams.

_ I can’t believe this is real _ , was all Livia could think. She took a deep breath and walked down the aisle, her father at her side. At the end stood the revered mother and Alistair. His whole face was completely lit up, with matching grins from King Maric, Prince Cailan, and Fergus standing at Alistair’s side. 

They reached the steps, and Lord Cousland kissed his daughter’s cheek, passing her hands into Alistair’s. The Mother spoke the words of marriage and union, but Livia couldn’t take her eyes off her soon to be husband. They were announced to the royal palace as husband and wife, Alistair capturing Livia in a tender, knee weakening kiss as Livia’s eyes closed. 

They snapped open, the morning sun just starting to come through the windows. Livia looked over at Alistair sleeping soundly beside her, she smiled and brushed a lock of his golden hair out of his face. 

His lips twitched but otherwise he didn’t move. She leaned down to kiss his forehead and slipped out of bed, eager to see what the day brought. 

Quickly dressed and out of the room, Livia walked the stone halls of her home, Vigil’s Keep. It had been weird to take the lands of the Howe’s, but after they tried to overthrow the Couslands, the King was all too happy to give the lands over to his son and newest daughter-in-law. 

Livia and Alistair were happy here. Close to both families, though not too close. The “request” for grandchildren was in high pressure from everyone, and Cailan and Anora wanted their three little ones to have some cousins. 

Livia walked into the throne room, examining some of the Avvar artifacts found in the basements of the keep, when the seneschal came in. 

“Lady Livia, I was not expecting you up so soon, but since you are, there is a man to see you.”

“A man to see me? So early in the day?” Livia asked, perplexed. She often let Alistair take care of the ruling, she was content to just be by his side. 

“Yes my lady. He said he was a Grey Warden. He’s also an... elf,” he added cautiously. 

“A Grey Warden? To see me?” Livia felt a weird twinge in her head, and rubbed her temple, trying to push the feeling away. 

“Well he asked for Livia Cousland. I know you haven’t used that name in years, but…”

“No, it’s fine send him in.” 

The man bowed and left the room, Livia rubbed her eyes, flashes of a battle scene playing in her mind. It felt so familiar yet so foreign. She sat on the throne and watched the fire burn in the pit in the middle of the room. 

“We have to light the beacon!” echoed in her head and she willed it away. 

“Livia!” a voice called out. 

Livia looked to see it coming from an elven man with stark white hair and deep purple eyes in heavy Chasind furred robes with a metal staff on his back.

“We’re in a dream, Livia. There was a sloth demon in the tower. We need to break free and save the rest of the mages before it is too late.”

Livia’s head pounded at his words and she finally held a hand up for silence. 

“I’m sorry ser, but I do not believe we have met. My seneschal tells me you’re a Grey Warden? My husband, Prince Alistair can better hear your needs, I try to stay out of politics.”

Ikal looked dumbfounded at the woman in front of him for this felt like a poor imitation of her. They hadn’t been together long, but Livia was far from a docile Lady of a keep. She would be ruling an army, not waiting for her lord husband to have the final say. 

Ikal raised an eyebrow, hearing the news of “my husband, Prince Alistair.” Livia had briefly mentioned that they knew each other when she was still in Highever, but nothing further. 

“Livia,” Ikal started, stepping closer to her, unsure how hard he’d have to push her. “This is not real. You are a Grey Warden with me. We met at Ostagar before the darkspawn attacked.”

Livia laughed at the notion, “Why on earth would I be a Grey Warden?”

“You chose to join when Duncan came asking for noble aid,” Ikal said slowly. He could already see a spark in Livia’s eyes. “I was recruited a few months later.”

Livia wiped her face, it now broke out in a cold sweat. This wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. Alistair was her husband. She said yes in the gardens. This man was a liar. 

“Livi?” came a voice. Alistair stepped into the throne room, as if summoned from the air. “Anything you need, my dear?”

Livia stood up, a relieved look on her face, and she embraced her husband. This didn’t look like they were casual acquaintances. It seemed Livia left out much more than Ikal ever could have imagined. 

“Nothing, love. This man is a Grey Warden. He was telling me some very interesting stories! Says I am a Grey Warden! How charming? I haven’t held so much as a knife since I was a young maiden.” Livia’s face looked awkward as she spoke, as if she couldn’t even believe herself.

“Alistair” looked lovingly at Livia, but raised his head to glare at Ikal.

“How charming indeed!” he replied. “Well ser, I don’t mean to be rude, but we must be getting to bed.”

“Bed? Didn’t we just wake up darling?” Livia asked, her eyes already starting to shut.

“Shush, dear.” The demon coaxed letting her body hit the floor. “Foolish mage, give her the peace she seeks. Shall I try again? I’ll do much better this time.” The demon snapped its fingers and Ikal vanished.

“Oh, that does not look good…” Niall muttered, standing over Ikal.

Ikal stood and rubbed his head. Damn demons. Sloth must be too strong still. He walked to the pedestal and looked over the runes. He had only defeated two demons, and there were at least two more. He probably needed to weaken it more. Maybe Morrigan was here, she could probably help.

Ikal placed his hands on the pedestal, summoning his magic to transport him to the next island of the demon’s domain.

It took Ikal a moment to adjust, not expecting to find himself in the circle library. He spun around, thinking maybe he went to the wrong island and this was Wynne’s dream, but in the corner was Morrigan, her eyes blank and the tell tale mark of the Chantry on her forehead. 

“Hello,” Morrigan’s soothing voice dulled by the monotone of the tranquility. “Am I in your way?”

“Morrigan. It’s me, Ikal. Why…?” He couldn’t even get out the words. The witch was arrogant, no one would argue that. Her disdain for a mage in a circle did feel like it was fueled towards disgust, but maybe it was fear. 

Yet, Livia’s dream felt more like a wish, similar to Ikal’s. Why would Morrigan wish to be in a circle and to be Tranquil? 

But at the same time, was being Dalish really his wish? Livia didn’t seem happy really, merely complacent. 

“Morrigan, come on, we need to go see your mother… she’s dying,” Ikal made up. Unlike any reasonable person who might be saddened by a parent’s passing, Morrigan’s eyes blinked faster, the usual smirk forming back on her lips. 

“So the old bat, finally bit it, did she?” Looking around the circle library and down at her circle robes, Morrigan let out a sound of disgust. “Why am I wearing these restrictive garments? Where are we?” her gaze finally settling on Ikal. “Finally. I have been waiting. Seems the demon could hold me down no longer. When do we--” her voice was cut off as she vanished. 

Ikal looked around confused as the library scene faded away. Whatever demon held her seemed content to let go, or maybe her willpower finally over took it. Thankfully a portal opened and Ikal went back to the beginning. Knowing now that freeing his companions would not fully free them to help, he decided he would go for Wynne first anyways. Maybe the senior enchanter knew something he could use to help Livia. 

Teleporting into her nightmare, Ikal was immediately met with screams and cries. A wisp of a memory stood screaming next to a sullen woman on a bed, who looked away with empty eyes as a templar walked away with a bundle in his arms.

Ikal blinked, and the scene shifted, now the woman was standing at the head of a room explaining the Fade. Every time he blinked, time skipped forward, and soon the young woman looked how Wynne looked now. 

So Wynne had a child while in the circle. It wasn’t unheard of, but it was rare. Ikal wondered if he was a similar case, born in another circle and sent away. 

Finally the time skipping stopped and Wynne stood in front of several seemingly dead mage apprentices, blaming herself for their demise. 

It took little to wake Wynne from the dream, and they had to physically fight off the demons pretending to be apprentices, before Wynne vanished. 

\--

Livia woke in a tent. She blinked trying to clear the cloudiness of her eyes, and sat up in the bedroll. She could feel the chill of the morning air, pulled on a cloak and left the tent, met by a small fire.

“Good morning my dear.”

Livia smiled. “Good morning Alistair.”

“I made…something. It looks funky, but tastes alright.”

“I’m sure it will be lovely,” she said walking over to him.

Ikal entered the camp, watching Livia and Alistair embrace next to the fire. It looked a lot like their most recent campsite, before they came to the tower.

Ikal stepped on a branch and drew their attention, Livia jumping forward brandishing a blade. At least she was a warrior again.

“Hold. Who goes?”

Ikal held his hands up. “Livia, it’s me. Ikal.”

She stepped forward, suspicion in her eyes.

“Ikal…” she tested. “Yes, you were that mage we met at Kinloch Hold. Alistair, don’t you remember?”

“Of course, my dear. What can we do for you?” The demon glared at Ikal, the Alistair form starting to crack. Ikal watched it shimmer and bend, barely keeping it together.

Ikal opened his mouth then stopped, wanting to make sure whatever he said impacted the biggest blow to the demon while drawing the most out of Livia.

“I wanted to join the Wardens. Duncan was a friend of mine. He wanted me to come to Ostagar and help defeat the darkspawn.”

Livia winced and her eyes looked sharper. “Duncan died at Ostagar, Ikal. We’re gathering allies.” She turned to the demon, her blade held higher.

“Alistair, you’re king. You should not be here.”

“No, no,” the demon started, coming close and pulling Livia into its chest, “I was never king. I am a Grey Warden like you.”

Livia bowed her head against the demon but Ikal had to believe she was woken.

“If only,” she sighed and plunged her blade into the demon’s stomach. It howled with pain, then laughter, the Alistair disguise falling away.

Ikal quickly summoned a blast of lightning, shocking the creature temporarily.

Livia jumped back, pulling a second blade from her hip. She rushed the creature dodging its attacks and stabbing it.

While distracted, Ikal summoned a larger strike, pulling on the Fade to do his whim.

Livia looked back, seeing the spell almost complete and leaped out of the way as the last of electricity slammed into the demon, dissolving it.

Livia looked to Ikal gratefully, “Thank you, I didn’t want to wake up—“ she finished before also disappearing.

Ikal smiled, and teleported back to the main hub. Checking the pedestal, all the runes had lit up, the inner sanctum was opened.

He quickly teleported there, Morrigan, Wynne and Livia waiting for him.

Sloth was all too ready to offer better dreams. Livia having already had two doses, was beyond pissed off and made the first move to strike. 

It felt like a dance the way Ikal and Livia had learned to fight together. Sloth chose an ogre form first and it was almost dejavu fighting it, like they had on the Tower of Ishal. 

Sloth tried many times to shake the group, but between Livia’s rage, Wynne and Morrigan throwing down spells and the various forms Ikal learned how to shapeshift through, Sloth was soon no more and they woke up in the central chamber. 

Ikal said a few words over Niall’s cold body before removing the Litany of Adralla and tucking it under his belt.

They continued up the tower in a tense silence. It seemed everyone knew that Ikal had some insight into one of their darkest secrets and no one was ready to talk about it yet. 

Reaching the Harrowing Chamber, Ikal immediately felt on edge, the Veil was thin here and the air was full of malice. Ikal tried to calm the templar, but was losing patience and wanted to see an end to this. He would not promise to kill everyone, much to the dismay of the young man trapped. 

It felt weird to be here again. It hadn’t even been a year since he was brought here in the dead of night to see if he was worthy; he couldn’t help but feel humbled by the domed ceiling and memories that the templars might strike him down at any moment.

Uldred was as arrogant as Ikal remembered. Claiming that the glory days of mages was on the horizon and blood magic was the only way forward. 

The form of the pride demon took control, ripping out of Uldred’s body. The Litany was very useful; a few words chanted in Tevene, and the spell trying to take hold of a mage was disrupted, leaving Uldred with fewer and fewer peons with every felled abomination. 

Finally the battle was over, and only one more mage lost to the attempted takeover of Kinloch Hold. 

With suspicious help from Cullen, they lead Irving and the survivors downstairs. 

The mages were pledged to their cause.


	16. Where Loyalties Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to check in with Anora and Alistair after the chaos in the Circle.

Anora straightened her back before lightly tapping her knuckles on the king’s study door. She had never been a nervous person, but the last conversation with her father left her feeling uneasy. 

The idea of marrying Alistair felt sour. He was her little brother. A nuisance when they were younger and now someone she was proud to call her king. 

The two had become even closer following Cailan’s death. Alistair was willing, and often eager to take Anora’s advice. He would place a gentle hand on her shoulder when he laughed, or offer his arm to escort her at noble events. She knew the whispers were getting louder and Alistair still needed to find a queen. Why not Anora? This was her rational as she stepped into the room. 

Alistair held a finger up, and finished writing whatever he was working on. Placing the quill back in the well-holder, he raised his face and smiled at her, causing a slight hitch in her breath. Was she truly smittened by that boyish grin? Or was it the anticipation of what might happen next?

“Alistair, I am sure you have noticed that the nobles do not wish Ferelden to stay without a queen. Have you given any more thought on the matter?”

This was about Ferelden, she reminded herself. Not her, or her father’s pressure. Ferelden needed a queen. 

Alistair pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed into his palm. He already felt guilty allowing the nobles to push him to a quicker coronation after Cailan’s death, and now Anora, his sister and most trusted advisor was testing any fond feelings he held. 

The country was on the edge of an apocalypse based on the reports he was getting. He had reached out to Redcliffe a few times now with no reply. Howe had recently returned to Denerim with the report that the Lord and Lady Cousland succumbed to the plague and there was still no word about Fergus or Livia. 

But that wasn’t good enough, his brother was barely four months buried, and everyone was hounding the new king to wed. Even if that was something he thought was a good idea right now, there was no one that had captured his heart since Livia. 

His mood darkened further. Were she still alive, he’d have to tell her, her parents were dead and as king he would be encouraged to marry her off to strengthen relations with another country. 

Anora stood still, but felt fidgety. Alistair never had a temper and was rarely in a sour mood, but his internal turmoil was written on his tense jaw and hooded eyes. Staying poised had always been one of her strong suits, but recently her whole life felt uncertain, when before she always was in charge. 

But just as quickly as the storm came, it went and Alistair was returned to his usual self. He shouldn’t take it out on Anora, he chided himself. She had been nothing but an excellent advisor and friend during these troubling times. She probably felt a certain level of pressure as well. 

“Please, sit,” he gestured, feeling embarrassed he hadn’t offered it already. “I have not given it much thought, and maybe I should officially tell the lords and ladies that I will not take a bride, or even entertain the thought any longer until the darkspawn are dealt with. I am still waiting on reports to confirm if any Grey Wardens survived Ostagar, and if this is a Blight. We cannot afford to be weakened by worrying about appearances and politics, can we?” He cocked his head to the side and gave a quick wink. 

Anora nodded slowly in agreement, a reserved smile tugging on the corner of her lips. The Theirn boys always hit a weak spot in her. 

Alistair crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. He liked to think he was a fairly perceptive guy, despite the lack of credit he was given. As second to the throne, he stood back and watched how people treated his brother over the years. Everyone always had ulterior motives and Anora was no different. 

But he did trust her and this wasn’t her idea. She probably convinced herself of it, trying to take back power, but, no. This was her father’s doing. 

Alistair loved Loghain like a father, but the man was driven by fear; Alistair could see it in his eyes. It reminded him of himself after the failed proposal. The raw desire to make things okay again. 

“Anora,” he said firmly. Her eyes returned to his face. She had let them wander the room. Anything to avoid the man before her. It looked as if he had been living in his study. A couch with a pillow and blanket sat crumpled in the corner. Paper in stacks along the larger desk behind where they were sitting. She glanced at what he was working on currently, but his spidery handwriting was hard to read from this angle. 

“Yes,” she stated assuredly. 

Alistair smiled a deceivingly sweet smile and leaned in over the table. “I need you to do something for me,” his voice dropped low and turned surprisingly cold. 

\--

Anora was not above lying or deceit. She often found it easier to charm someone into doing something for her, but was a woman with great ambitions all the same. 

But her father was someone she wasn’t even sure she could deceive. Not that what the king asked for was deception. He simply wanted Anora to check in her father’s study for any letters that might have not yet made it to the king’s desk. Things the king had asked of Loghain and was still waiting for a response to. 

With Rendon Howe back in Denerim claiming a sudden plague wiped out the Cousland line, Alistair sought answers and had a sneaking suspicion that his general was not being quite frank with him. 

To think there was also a political coup along with the potential of a Blight made Anora shiver. 

To think her father was a part of it, or the leader of it made her sick to her stomach. 

Her slippered feet padded quietly down the stone halls towards her father’s study. He was unlikely to be there at this hour, but Anora quickly ran through potential excuses if he was. That was her life now: coming up with excuses to see her own father. 

There were a few candles lit, but the room was empty. She checked down the hallway subtley and ducked into the room, going to the desk and looking for anything. 

Unfortunately, Loghain’s desk was impeccably neat. A single sheet of fresh vellum in the middle of the desk with an inkwell and quill just to the side. She tried the drawers to no success, all were locked. 

Sighing loudly she looked around the room for anything that might be standing out. She had given up and was ready to leave, when a sheet of parchment obviously meant for the fireplace caught her eye. 

The page was small, but mostly unburnt. Anora tucked it neatly in her dress, deciding to leave first and examine it later. 

Still unsure of her own loyalties, she returned to her own room. If it damned her father beyond repair, it would return to the fire. 

The note simply had the word “accepted” scrawled across the front. The back had a symbol of two black eyes, feathered and melting. 


	17. A Town on Fire

They set up camp in an abandoned farmhouse outside the village and everyone started on their routines. 

Livia, Steel and Andy had been collecting sticks all along the road; the mabari loved to run around and play while also hunting the dreaded fallen branches. 

Wynne and Sten quickly became the hunters of the group, and would be returning any moment with roots, herbs, fruits, and several rabbits, or maybe even a deer. Between a qunari, two wardens and two mabari, seconds were often not available. 

Morrigan would cook once the food was brought, and Leliana set up the sleeping arrangements for the night. Ikal was figuring out the sleeping shifts, and who should stay up first. It was a toss up for the Wardens. They wouldn’t sleep as much as everyone else anyways, so they often went back to back either right away or early in the day before the sun rose. 

Sten lucked out and brought back two young bucks, one would be dinner tonight and the other they would have ready to be smoked in Redcliffe for jerky on the road. 

After dinner, Leliana told her theory on the name “Redcliffe” and that red clay was thought to be a sign of battles and bloodshed. Livia knew the village vaguely, she had come a few times with her father, who was friends with the Guerins. The town was sleepy and on the edge of a lake, bloodshed was not in its history. 

Sten and Steel took first watch, the pair were currently in a growling match. 

Ikal and Livia moved towards their bedrolls, staying close in case the dreams got to be too much. It was almost romantic as they stared at the starry night through the decaying roof slats of the barn. 

“We were in love,” Livia offered. 

“So you were almost queen.”

Livia let out a strangled laugh, “No. I ended things because I didn’t want to be a princess, much less a queen.”

Ikal chuckled at the disgust in her voice, “Well for what it’s worth, I think you’d make a great queen.”

“Based on what? The barely month we’ve known each other?”

“You know when to lead and when to let others take charge. You’re strong and caring, even if you try to hide it.”

Livia scoffed. 

“And you inspire others,” Ikal said softly, turning to face Livia, who turned at the same time. Their faces were inches apart, and Livia felt her heart skip. His deep violet eyes were so alien and mesmerizing. The air grew thick with anticipation. 

“We shouldn’t,” Livia whispered. 

“Says who?” Ikal replied and closed the gap between them. 

A few beats passed before both pulled away and returned to looking up at the stars. 

Livia bit her lip, holding back a giggle, which broke free once Ikal started laughing. 

“Okay, nevermind,” he chuckled. 

“What prompted that?” 

“I meant everything I said. I guess, I just thought that’s what we were supposed to do next.”

“That was very sweet of you, but I think we are better as just friends.”

“Couldn’t agree more.” With a fluid movement, Ikal sprang to his feet, offering a hand to Livia. “Walk?”

Livia smiled and took his hand, and the two wandered the empty farmland, hand in hand, enjoying being in one another’s company. 

\--

When dawn broke, Livia rubbed her eyes, trying to dispel the irritation that had settled in. The sun was dimmed behind a hazy sky, and the air felt clogged. 

They quickly broke camp and ran through the farmlands, till they came to a cliffside that overlooked the village. 

People were dragging corpses to a large fire in the middle of the village square while women and children stood huddled in front of the Chantry, many openly weeping. 

Livia and Ikal looked anxiously at each other and broke into a run, the mabaris keeping up with their partners while everyone else followed behind. 

They entered the village, and were ignored. Men who weren’t dragging bodies sat huddled in tight groups, their eyes empty and their bodies sagging. 

A young man looked up and sighed, before pulling himself from the overturned crate and greeted them. 

“Please tell me there is a full army behind you,” he pleaded.

“What happened here?” Livia asked, her heart falling. She hadn’t been to Redcliffe in years, but she remembered the town being lively and welcoming. These people were on their last legs. 

“Has word not gone out?” a panic rising in the man’s voice. “Every night the dead rise and attack the village.”

“What of the Arl?”

“No one has heard from the castle in weeks. I will take you to Bann Teagan. He can tell you more.”

Livia nodded, and followed the young man to the Chantry, just as the rest of her team caught up with them. 

She held a hand for the mabaris to wait outside, and gestured for Leliana and Wynne to join her and Ikal. The last thing needed was Morrigan or Sten to say something inappropriate in front of the Bann. 

Entering the Chantry was heart wrenching. Whispered prayers and crying echoed in the cool air, while a group of now orphaned children openly sobbed as the Sisters tried to calm them. 

Bann Teagan stood in the back, hunched over a table. He raised his head when they approached, his face ashened and eyes glazed over. 

“Tomas, right? Who are these travelers?” His gaze flashed over each person, before recognition broke over on Livia. “Lady Cousland.” He straightened up. 

Livia reached over the table, clasping the Bann in a handshake. 

“Lord Teagan. What’s happened here?”

He shook his head sadly and came around the table, pulling Livia into an uncomfortable hug. 

“I’m so sorry, my lady.”

Livia stood stiffly, unsure at the familiarity. They had met a few times now, most recently at her mother’s salon three summers ago, but they never had much of a connection. 

“Pardon me?” she said as she backed out of the man’s embrace. 

“Your parents, the sickness. I can’t imagine how hard that’s been. Were you with Fergus?”

Livia’s heart stopped and dropped into her stomach. 

“My parents?” she stammered. 

Teagan’s eyes fell away, now realizing he was the one to break the news to the young lady. 

“Ah, my lady. Maybe we should talk over here?” he gestured to one of the side rooms used for storage. 

Ikal, Leliana and Wynne stood uncomfortably as Livia and Teagan walked away. Ikal flinched when he heard Livia’s wail and knew the news was grim. 

Livia walked back in with the Bann a few steps behind. Her face was stony, her eyes lifeless and greyed. 

“Where is Eamon?” she asked, her voice monotone. 

Teagan, shifted his eyes around the group, unsure if he could burden her further. 

“Lord Teagan,” Ikal started, taking over. “Lady Cousland and I are Grey Wardens. We seek the Arl for aid against the Blight.”

Teagan groaned and dropped his head into his hands. The rumors in Denerim were true then. He questioned Loghain on his opportune withdrawal of troops, but was met with defensive anger that the Grey Wardens were to blame. Before he left there were already whispers that a couple Wardens survived and were on their way to Denerim to finish the job. He knew better of course; Duncan was a close friend and ally. There was no way Wardens killed Cailan. 

It was awkward to explain out loud what Redcliffe had been facing the past few weeks. Teagan felt absurd telling them that the dead were walking, but the elf in front of him took it with stride. He kept letting his eyes flick over Livia who stood tall and strong but her face had completely shut down. She stared past the Bann, her eyes blinking slowly. 

He sent them on their way to the mayor, Murdock and Eamon’s personal guard captain, Ser Perth and prayed that the Wardens would be able to help. 

Once back outside, Ikal found Murdock and had their instructions on how to best help the village. 

Sten wasn’t convinced, but quickly fell in line when Livia snapped that they were staying to help the village. Morrigan also looked like she disapproved but a quick glance from Ikal told her to keep it to herself. 

“Livia. You, Sten, and Wynne go talk to Dwyn. Leliana, Morrigan and I will go talk to the blacksmith.” 

Livia blinked slowly to show she understood and walked towards the houses along the lake, Steel quickly following with a soft whine. 

Ikal sighed sadly and headed to the blacksmith hoping for some good news. 

\--

Livia walked absentmindedly, stumbling up the ramps and heading deeper into the village. She left them. Abandoned them. Her father warned her. Duncan warned her. She promised she’d be back. Livia had to shake the feelings away for now. Despite her anguish, the village still needed to be freed of it’s undead problem. 

She came to Dywn’s door and pounded on the door. No one answered but she could hear shuffling inside. 

“Open it up or I break it down!” she yelled. She looked at Sten and Wynne who said nothing and drew her leg back, slamming the heel of her boot into the door, satisfied by the creak of wood breaking and the door falling open. 

“You broke my door,” an older dwarf said matter of factly. He stood in the middle of the small hut with two humans flanking his sides. One looked to be Chasind based on the large dark face tattoos, while the other looked mercenary based on his armor. 

“Sorry,” Livia said unapologetically with a shrug. 

“You’re forgiven. Now get out.”

\--

Ikal stood in the village center, seeing what healing he could provide to the townspeople. Most were too shy to receive aid from an elf mage, but after the first couple, more were lining up for help. 

He was pretty pleased with himself, having convinced the blacksmith Owne to help with repairs. It only took a potentially impossible promise, but Ikal was serious when he said he would try to find the man’s daughter in the castle. 

Shouting caught his attention, as a dwarf stumbled into the square, with Livia right behind him, her sword drawn as she lazily swiped the blade at the man. Sten and Steel followed, a half smile on the Qunari, while Wynne brought up the rear, her eyebrows tightly knit together. 

“Alright!” the dwarf shouted. “I’ll fight!” he straightened himself up and ran away from Livia’s loose grip on her sword. 

Ikal held a chuckle from the antics but was aware how much Livia must have been hurting. She hadn’t talked much about her family, but it was obvious how much she loved them. To lose them, her king, and mentor must have weighed heavily on the warrior’s heart. 

“You!” she yelled, her sword pointed out, startling the man practicing on a dummy with a spear. “Hold it,” she sheathed her weapon and came behind the man moving his hands along the saft, “here and here. Know push with your hip letting your foot slide in the sand. You’ll get more power that way.” 

The man shook with fear initially, but followed her instruction and kept at it. 

Ikal was about to ask if she wanted to accompany him to meet Ser Perth, but she had already moved onto the next man, correcting the pull on his bow. 

Murdock nodded appreciatively and went back to his own duties before the sun fell and the dead rose. 

\--

With a shout, Livia wretched her blade from the stomach of a walking corpse, the sun just starting to peak over the cliffs. 

It had been a brutal battle, but with help from Dwyn, Berwick, Wynne’s incredible healing powers, and a high morale within the knights and militia, they survived the night with few losses. 

Proudly Bann Teagan, Murdock and Ser Perth presented Livia and Ikal with the title of “Champions of Redcliffe” and a promise to aid however they could. 

Fearing more undead the next evening, the festivities were cut short and they headed up the hill to the old windmill to figure out how to get into the castle. 

Ser Perth and his men went back up into the hills, heading towards the main gate. Teagan mentioned an old underground passage, when a woman came running down from the castle, with two soldiers by her side. 

“Teagan!” she gasped. 

“Isolde?!” he took her by her forearms as she fell into him. 

“Lady Isolde,” Livia greeted. 

“Lady Livia,” her Orelisian accent thickened by surprise. “Why are you here?”

“I’m a Grey Warden. We came to ask Eamon for help.”

“I’m afraid we are the ones who seek help. Eamon became sick, and then Connor started acting weird… and…” the woman swallowed as if the words were literally stuck in her throat. She turned back to Teagan and started pulling on his arm. “Please Teagan, you must return to the castle with me. Something has happened to Connor and I need to bring you back. We must go quickly!” Her eyes were frantic, and while Ikal and Livia both had their own curiosities, they silently decided to let it go. 

“Go ahead, Teagan. We will meet you in the Main Hall.”

Teagan nodded and went back up the hill with Isolde, Ikal and Wynne giving each other a knowing look. 

“Possession,” they said in unison. 

“You think the boy has become possessed,” Morrigan stated as they went into the windmill, Livia brushing hay aside to reveal the hidden entrance. 

“Undead, acting strange, the smell,” Ikal ticked off. 

“Smell?” Livia asked as they started the descension into the basement. 

“People who have been around demons or possessed mages smell different. The corruption lingers,” Ikal explained. 

“All the more reason to keep your kind chained,” Sten gruffed. 

“I didn’t see you complaining when I healed your leg,” Wynne chided, earning a grunt from the Qunari. 

They reached the bottom of the stairs, Morrigan lighting the torches with a wave of her hand. 

“Let’s go kill a demon then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “WE SAVED THE VILLAGE. NOW TAKE ME TO YOUR ARL!”


	18. Note from Author

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On hiatus

Maker's knickers! 

On hiatus for... awhile. I won't vanish... but I was reading some previous chapters and they don't fit in the story anymore. Just some hopefully more minor edits to get the previous stuff to the current and future stuff. 

Thank you so so so so much for all the comments, kudos and subscriptions. I will try not to be too long. Once I update what is already out, I also want to stock pile a few more future chapters so there isn't a wait time of months. Between life and life, I have not been writing as much as I thought I would be, which bums me out immensely. 

Please wait for me and Livia and Ikal! I still might throw some one-shots out there, but I need to stop starting massive sagas that I'm not working on all day.

Best, 

Elle


	19. Another Update!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't want to bog the chapters or people's inboxes with nonsense, but this feels a worthy update to share.

Hello!

I have the entire story fairly solidly planned out. I have 60 chapters, almost all have a title, all have major plot points. I have 34 chapters almost completely done, and written out. 11 of which I don't plan to touch at all anymore, except minor grammar. They feel DONE. 

I feel confidently on track to start posting chapters again soon. Once I have the first 20 100% done, and the next 10 85% done, I will start posting. 

The first 20 will go up all at once (I have 4 maybe 5 new chapters in the beginning), and then I will return to (really really really hard) trying to post once a week. 

Thanks for sticking around! Comments are better than gold!

Elle


	20. Final Update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NEW WORK>>>>>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1940362

After much thought and reflection, I will not longer be posting the story here. Please use the link the summary to go to the NEW and (I think) greatly improved Long May He Reign. By splitting the story into more clear parts, I feel more confident posting. So far no part is longer than 13 chapters, and part 2 is 100% posted. There is looking to be 8 parts in total and still about 60-65 chapters across it all. 

I hope you will join me over there, please leave a comment to let me know what you think!

Happy Reading!

-Elle


End file.
